


?e> 






THE 



EMINENT DEAD: 



THE TRIUMPHS OF FAITH 



IN THE DYING HOUR. 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY KEY. A. STEVENS, A. M. 



[ A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, 
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow ; 
Long had I watched its glory moving on 
O'er the still radiance of the lake below. 
Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow ! 
Even in its very motion there was rest ; 
While every breath that chanced to blow, 
Wafted the traveller to the beauteous West. 
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul '. 
To whose white robes the gleam of bliss is given, 
And by the breath of mercy made to roll 
Right onward to the golden gates of Heaven." 



BY BRADFORD K. PEIRCE. 



BOSTON: 
CHARLES II . PEIRCE. 

M D C C C L I . 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year I8do, 

By CHARLES H. PEIRCE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 






Sterqotyped and Printed 

By George C. Rand and Company, 

No. 3 Cornhill, Boston. 



5 

U 

HON. FRANCIS 0. WATTS: 
My Dear Feiend, 

Allow me to inscribe your name upon this volume, both as 
a tribute of respect and Christian affection, and as due to the 
interest which you have been pleased to express in its preparation. 
It was at your suggestion that the work was at first undertaken ; 
and in now presenting you the consummation of your wishes, and 
my gleanings through the precious and abundant fields of Christian 
biography, I am oppressed with but one painful sentiment — a 
sorrow that so noble a theme has fallen into hands so unequal to 
bestow upon it adequate justice. Trusting that He who " hath 
chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which 
are mighty," will sanctify this work for the accomplishment of 
some pious oflices, it is humbly placed upon his altar. 
Truly Yours, 

In the Fellowship of Christ, 

B. E. PEIRCE. 






PREFACE. 



The design of the present volume is not original, neither has the compiler 
the vanity to suppose its execution to be superior to others, published both in 
England and in this country, covering much of the ground embraced in this 
work. He was both surprised and gratified, while collecting his materials, to 
find how vast and encouraging was the harvest before him, into which he 
might thrust his sickle. From the well-known publication of Lindley Murray, 
the noted grammarian, entitled the "Power of Religion in the Dying Hour," 
down to the present day, numerous compilations have been prepared by 
accomplished Christian scholars, and have met with a cordial reception on 
the part of the religious community. 

Christian biography, as it is one of the most interesting and profitable 
branches of our Christian literature, has also become one of the most ex- 
tensive and voluminous, and is every year rapidly increasing. " It is a 
homage due to departed worth," says Robert Hall, " whenever it rises to such 
a height as to render its possessor an object of general attention, to endeavor 
to rescue it from oblivion, that when it is removed from the observation of 
men, it may still live in their memory, and transmit through the shades of the 
sepulchre some reflection, however faint, of its living lustre." One of the 
chief objects of this class of publications is, in a measure, lost by the multi- 
plication of its volumes, rendering their general perusal impossible. Here 
arises the necessity for compilations and Encyelopasdies of religious biogra- 
phy, presenting, in abridged forms, the life and labors, the sufferings and 
triumphs, of the glorious dead. " By enlarging the cloud of witnesses with 
which we are encompassed," remarks the eloquent writer from whom we have 
just quoted, "it is calculated to give a fresh impulse to the desire of imita- 
tion ; and even the despair of reaching it is not without its use, by checking 
the levity, and correcting the pride and presumption, of the human heart." 
The Christian manuals in which these summary sketches of religious charac- 
ter and life are given, have aimed, by practical illustrations, to present differ- 
ent views of the gospel scheme of redemption, in its operation upon the 
human heart. Thus, one volume before us exhibits the power and beauty of 
female piety ; another aims to bring out, with peculiar distinctness, the first 
stages in the experience of eminent Christians, — their various and yet har- 
monious emotions, while passing from " death unto life." Quite a number 
of volumes have been devoted to the collection of the dying scenes and sayings 
of pi-ominent Christians of different ages, as they were passing the river of 
1* V 



VI PREFACE. 

death and entering upon the promised rewards of a higher life. This is the 
principal office of the present work, and it hases its claim for a separate 
hearing from the Christian public, upon several important differences, and we 
trust improvements, in its plan and arrangement, from its numerous coadjti 
tors. Nearly every work of this class is largely devoted to recitals of the 
dying hours of martyrs and confessors in the earliest periods of the history of 
Christianity ; the interest in which is abated by their often repetition, and 
weakened by the traditionary records upon which they rest. The sketches 
contained in the present volume commence with the Reformation, have been 
compiled from full and authentic memoirs, and many of the names recorded 
upon its pages have lived within the present century, and are still precious in 
the memory of living Christians, and powerful in their posthumous influence 
over modern society. 

Another distinction consists in presenting a short biographical sketch of the 
life, in connection with the account of the final hours and divine solaces of 
noted Christian disciples. The volumes referred to above, record only the 
dying expressions — the holy courage and conduct of the eminent dead in the 
hour of their final triumph ; and as there is a remarkable similarity in the 
exercises of devout persons under the sustaining power of the Divine Spirit, 
the attention of the reader wearies with the constant recurrence of almost the 
same thoughts and expressions. 

Besides, the Christian argument founded upon the happy deaths of believers 
in all ages, depends for its moral force chiefly upon the virtue and nobleness 
of their previous lives. To secure, if possible, an unflagging interest in the 
pi-esent volume, and add every truthful element to the sublimity of pious 
death beds, we have attempted to present, from original sources, sufficiently 
extended outlines of the life and influence of those whose calm or triumphant 
deaths added only the crowning excellence to a life-long confession for Christ. 

We have also sought to present every variety of Christian development; the 
power, beauty and unity of religious experience, as exhibited by persons of 
different ages in life, of different social positions, and filling different relations 
to society — clergymen, laymen, lawyers, plrysiciar.s ; of different Christian 
persuasions, embracing nearly every evangelical sect of the present day. 

We cannot avoid here, calling the reader's attention to the powerful argu- 
ment for the divine origin of the Christian religion to be found in the remark- 
able harmony in Christian experience in every period of its history, and 
among every variety of age, character, education, and social refinement. It 
is evidently a religion for man, and could only have been provided by One 
who " knows what is in man." The objection that is sometimes brought 
against the Christian system, on account of its sectarian divisions, may indeed 
be transformed into a successful weapon of defence against all unbelieving 
assaults. Among all these Christian sectaries, the same volume is received 
as the foundation of its faith, and the same conditions of spiritual life are 
asserted; and however variant in the accidences of Christianity — its forms of 
government, its administration of sacraments, and its theological speculations — 
still its hopes, its fear's, its peace, its power, its defences against temptation, 



PREFACE. Vii 

its consolations in afflictions, and its victory over death, are the same in every 
subdivision of the Christian family. •' It seems, in one sense, to level all dis- 
tinctions among men, exalting the poor, and rendering the rich lowly in their 
own esteem, — strengthening the weak, raising the bowed down, comforting 
those that mourn, and causing the widow's heart to sing for joy. The Chris- 
tian in the cottage and the Christian in the palace, the Christian in health and 
the Christian in sickness, the Christian in the fulness of prosperity and the 
Christian in the depths of adversity, are all one in Christ Jesus. They all eat 
the same spiritual meat, they all drink the same spiritual drink, for they drink 
of that rock which follows them in all their journeyings through this world, — 
and that Rock is Christ." This unity of faith and of emotional piety is hap- 
pily expressed by Prof. Park, in his sermon upon " The Theology of the Intel- 
lect, and that of the Feelings." " Decidedly," he remarks, " as we resist the 
pretension that the church is infallible, there is one sense in which this pre- 
tension is well founded. Her metaphysicians, as such, are not free from error, 
nor her philologists, nor any of her scholars, nor her ministers, nor councils. 
She is not infallible in her bodies of divinity, nor her creeds, nor catechisms, 
nor any logical formulas ; but underneath all her intellectual refinements lies 
a broad substance of doctrine, around which the feelings of all renewed men 
cling ever and every where, into which they penetrate and take root; and this 
substance must be right, for it is precisely adjusted to the soul, and the soul 
was made for it. * * * The great mass of believers have never embraced 
the metaphysical refinements of creeds, useful as these refinements are ; but 
have singled out and fastened upon and held firm those cardinal truths, which 
the Bible has lifted up and turned over in so many different lights, as to make 
them the more conspicuous by their very alternations of figure and hue. In 
unnumbered cases, the real faith of Christians has been purer than their 
written statements of it. Men, women and children, have often decided 
aright when doctors have disagreed, and doctors themselves have often felt 
aright when they have reasoned amiss. ' In my heart,' said a tearful German, 
'I am a Christian, while in my head I am a philosopher.' " 

What an argument have we here for Christian union. Despite every mis- 
giving which the ardent lover of his own peculiar form of Christianity may 
have in reference to the practical bearing of other theological views or eccle- 
siastical forms upon vital piety, from the circle of all these Christian bodies 
come forth "living epistles" of piety, "known and read of all men," who, 
measured by the Saviour's standard, " by their fruits ye shall know them," 
give unimpeachable testimony to their common heirship to " an inheritance, 
incorruptible, undefiled, which fadeth not away." Who will refuse his fellow- 
ship where Christ has borne testimony by the Holy Spirit. " There are," 
remarks Professor Park, " discrepant systems of philosophy pervading the 
sermons of different evangelical ministers; but often the rays of light which 
escape from these systems, are so reflected and refracted, while passing 
through the atmosphere between the pulpit and the pews, as to end in pro- 
ducing the same image upon the retina of every eye. Not seldom are the 
leaders of sects in a real variance, when the people who fill up the sects, know 



Vlll PREFACE. 

not why they are cut off from their brethren ; and the people may strive in 
words, while they agree in the thing, and their judgments may differ in the 
thing, while their hearts are but one." 

Should the present volume, in the smallest degree, conduce to quicken the 
fraternal sentiments which are now stirring in the bosoms of members of the 
various Christian bodies, the author will feel that his labors have not been 
lost, and that an ample recompense has been secured. 

It only remains to say, that the compiler has been continually indebted to 
the published memoirs of the eminent deceased, preferring to use the language 
of an authentic record, as far as possible, rather than to recast it in his own 
mould, in order that the force of the living and dying testimony of these faith- 
ful disciples, might not be abated by any distrust of the truthfulness of the 
record. We may not, through oversight, have specified all the sources from 
whence we have derived our sketches ; and this is not important, as they may 
easily be discovered by those who desire to have a more full acquaintance 
with any one of the churches' worthies, whose names are found within our 
pages. It will be readily supposed that one chief difficulty with the compiler, 
has been to make his selections from so vast a treasure house. Materials for 
several volumes are now in his hands, omitted from this work, only through 
lack of space. He has intended to choose his subjects from every portion of 
the Catholic church, without reference to the denominational name. 

We delay the reader but to say, in the language of the devoted Archbishop 
Leighton to a friend, when sending him a copy of Valerius Maximus, " I con- 
ceived it would clog you the less, because it is of so much variety of selected 
examples, and the stages are so short, you may begin and leave off where you 
will, without wearying. But when all is done, there is one only blessed story, 
wherein our souls must dwell and take up their rest ; for amongst all the rest, 
we shall not read — ' Venite ad me,' &c. — ' Come unto me all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest ; ' and never any yet that tried 
him, but found him as good as his word: to whose sweet embraces I recom- 
mend you, and desire to meet you there." 

Roxbuky, August, 1850. 



INTRODUCTION 



The present volume — the work of an esteemed friend, at whose request I 
prefix to it a few lines — will commend itself to the reader with a sort of per- 
sonal interest. It treats of death — to all men inevitable, and to most men an 
appalling personal interest. Comparatively few of the works we read relate 
directly to our own individual life ; biographies themselves, being mostly the 
records of extraordinary men, have but an indirect relation to our own inferior 
career; but with death — "the great leveller" — there is no respect of 
persons, and when, in tracing the course of the great man, we at last follow 
him into the presence of the king of terrors, the peculiar sentiment with which 
we contemplate his greatness, and which reminds us continually that he was 
not of our class, gives way to an entirely new sympathy — a fellow-feeling of 
mortality — the solemn consciousness of a common doom. Therefore, a work 
like the present, which, though it presents interesting outlines of the lives of 
notable men, does so chiefly in reference to that stage of their history in which 
they share our common fate, must be personally and more than commonly 
interesting to us. 

This common inevitableness of death is an aspect of the subject sternly 
solemn to a reflecting mind ; and were men habitually disposed to reflect upon 
it, we can hardly doubt that it would produce a most manifest and universal 
effect on their moral conduct. It is, however, apparently an effort of man- 
kind to repress the consciousness of the fact — as if the most intensely inter- 
esting event in human history deserves the least possible anticipation, or as if 
forgetfulness could forestall its inexorable appi*oach. But, alas, it comes on- 
ward with unabated pace, notwithstanding our heedlessness, and overwhelms 
us at last with its awful reality — the more fearfully for having been the less 
apprehended. Of what avail is it to the mariner, whose vessel has sprung a 
leak, to betake himself to the bottle, and to slumber on his sinking deck ; will 
sleep or dreams of safety avert his doom ? Nay, the waters will gain on him 
until the fatal wave washes over him, and buries him for ever in the deep ? 
Rather let him exert his every energy to reach, as nearly as possible, the neigh- 
boring shore, so that when the wreck goes down beneath him, he may per- 
chance struggle through the waters to the safety of the land. 

Notwithstanding our habitual disposition to evade the thought of death, the 
consciousness of its inexorable certainty will come over us at times with 
startling distinctness. Salutary are such intervals of reflection, if we allow 
them their just impression upon us. Then are we reminded of the insignifi- 



X INTRODUCTION. 

cance of both the pleasures and the sorrows which absorb our ordinary life ; 
then Ave see, though it be in contrast with the darkness of the grave, as the 
starry worlds are seen in the night, the ineffable reality and importance of 
spiritual things ; then, if ever, we perceive the consolatory adaptations of the 
evangelical economy to our condition. 

But how readily such periods of serious thoughtfulness pass away, and we 
again find ourselves carried along in the current of fife, heedless of all things 
except the transient passing scene. The eddies that whirl us along, however, 
bear us onward to the unavoidable precipice, and we plunge it at last ; and 
then, when death is no longer an anticipation, vague, however startling, but a 
realization, solemnly and actually at hand, how does the soul wake up as to a 
new consciousness ; how like a dream, a most frivolous dream, does its past 
life appear. With what amazement does it look upon its ending career, 
and the ordinary course of human life. How does it wonder. that a being 
appointed to such a fate, and to such a following destiny, could pass through 
his probation with such a life ! 

Such is the history of the ordinary experience of men respecting death. But 
the genuine Christian has other views and other experiences concerning it. 
He contemplates it more or less habitually — he lives for death. He looks 
forward to it, not without solicitude, yet with a reliance upon the revealed 
assurances of divine support, that often rises into devout exultation ; so that he 
can share the sentiment of the apostle, who "desired to depart and be with 
Christ." The present volume is designed to illustrate this power of religion 
over death. The examples given are numerous, and presented with consid- 
erable detail. The thoughtful reader will find in them at least two interesting 
facts ; — the first is the all-sufficient consolation of divine grace in the trying 
hour of dissolution ; the other the uniformity of the victory which good men 
achieve over death, notwithstanding the great contrasts of their previous opin- 
ions and sectarian relations. Contemplating these good men as they enter the 
" gates of pearl," with " songs of deliverance" upon their lips, we may learn 
to have charity for the differences of earnest minds, and comfortable hope for 
the coming hour of our own departure, 

A. STEVENS. 

Boston, August, 1850. 



CONTENTS 



Page. 

Philip Melancthon, 13 

John Calvin, ; . . 26 

Philip De Mornay, 32 

George Wishart, 38 

John Knox, 45 

Bishop Hooper, 54 

Bernard Gilpin, 66 

Andrew Rivet, 77 

George Herbert, 87 

Richard Baxter, 96 

Philip Henry, 106 

John Janeway, 112 

Cotton Mather, 120 

Professor Halyburton, 126 

Elizabeth Rowe, 134 

Samuel Walker, 140 

James Hervey, ]46 

Risdon Darracott, 154 

John Wesley, , 161 

William Grimshaw, 186 

David Brainerd, 195 

H. Housman, 203 

John Locke, 207 

John Fletcher, 210 

Mary Fletcher, 224 

Robert Simpson, 232 

Mrs. Graham, 239 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Augustus M. Toplady, 246 

Count Zinzendorf, 247 

Hannah More, 251 

Robert Hall, 267 

Legh Richmond, 292 

George Pickering, 324 

Abdool Musseeh, 335 

Christmas Evans, 338 

Richard Watson, 350 

Jeremiah Evarts, 364 

Edward Payson, ' 388 

Elias Cornelius, 418 

Thomas Arnold, 441 

Wilbur Fisk, 452 

David L. Marks, 473 

Richard Langhorne, 501 



THE EMINENT DEAD. 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 

God works with human instrumentalities in establishing 
and extending the kingdom of Christ in the world. In His 
omniscient wisdom He selects His laborers, and sanctifies 
their various talents to the accomplishment of the same great 
design. In nothing more is the providence of God shown, 
than in the remarkable manner in which he has called forth 
and endowed marked and peculiar gifts in the ministry, 
during the different periods and exigencies in the history of 
the church. In every hour of peril and of reformation the 
Saviour has fulfilled his promise to be with his church until 
the end of the world, by raising up and sending forth men 
every way adapted, by nature and grace, to struggle with 
the difficulties that surround them, and triumph over every 
opposing obstacle. How remarkable the variety of gifts 
among the little band of apostles first sent forth to evan- 
gelize the world ; and how well adapted for the fight of faith, 
the patient endurance and utter sacrifice incident upon their 
honorable but perilous calling. In this band were harmo- 
niously combined the sanctified impetuosity of Peter, the 
devoted and melting affection of John, the gravity and wis- 
dom of James, and afterwards, the boldness and manly 
eloquence of Paul. Human frailty attaches to all human 
2 



14 



THE EMINENT DEAL). 



instrumentalities, — this treasure has been committed to 
earthen vessels, — the infirmities of the men are seen, but 
only serve the more to exhibit the power and wisdom of 
God in sanctifying their peculiar tempers and talents to the 
benefit and reformation of the times in which they live. 

How evidently was this seen at the Reformation. When, 
before or since, has the church possessed a Luther ? And 
with all his misjudgments and impetuosity, what combination 
of physical, mental and moral characteristics can be imag- 
ined better fitted to meet and struggle with the armed errors 
and the spiritual darkness of his age, than was exhibited, by 
the blessing of God, in Martin Luther. '* He was one of the 
greatest of Christian heroes, and his faults were those of a 
first rate character." 

The allwise Head of the church, however, did not permit 
him to stand alone, but surrounded him with faithful and 
judicious colleagues and disciples. Among these illustrious 
men, one of the most beautiful in character, as well as one of 
the brightest lights of that period, was Philip Melancthon. 
" He was, we may say, expressly formed by divine Provi- 
dence to be the friend, coadjutor, and counsellor, of the 
principal leader of the great cause. While Luther had 
eminently the qualities in which Melancthon was deficient, 
and without which his task could never, humanly speaking, 
have been accomplished, the latter had precisely the portion 
of calmness, wisdom and prudence, which was necessary to 
assuage the fiery temperament of Luther. That he was 
sometimes too gentle, too cautious, is, we imagine, undeni- 
ble ; but, on the other hand, his concessions, though they 
might have ultimately endangered principle, never, that we 
recollect, went the length of abandoning it. The intrepid 
defiance with which Luther threw down the gauntlet in the 
very face of the papal power, might have shaken stronger 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 15 

nerves than Melancthon's, and we cannot wonder if his 
milder and less martial spirit, shrunk from the anticipation 
of so disproportionate a conflict, and preferred a safer en- 
mity, a gradual and more concealed invasion. Luther's sole 
deference was to truth. He searched for it honestly and 
diligently, and when he had found it he went the shortest 
way to its propagation. He set fire at once to the sanctuary 
of error ; careless, if while the whole world was enlightened 
with the blaze, a few individuals might be scorched by the 
flame. Melancthon with equal veneration for the truth, had 
more regard for his own repose, and for the tranquillity of 
mankind ; and would have preferred a more easy and circuitous 
way of demolishing the edifice of lies. When however the 
contest was begun, Melancthon did not desert his post, but 
was to Luther a firm support, and a faithful fellow worker." * 

Philip Melancthon was born in the town of Bretten, situ- 
ated upon the Rhine, in Saxony, February 16th, 1495. 

At a very early age he gave evidence of an exceedingly 
active and precocious mind. At the age of twelve he 
entered the University of Heidelberg, and soon became dis- 
tinguished for his rapid advancement in his studies, and for 
the eloquence of his public harangues and discourses. When 
scarcely seventeen such was his maturity in the sciences, 
that he was created Doctor in Philosophy, or Master of 
Arts. He immediately entered upon the work of instruc- 
tion, delivering public lectures, which were crowded with 
eager students, and preparing new text books in the classics. 
The appearance of these early productions called forth from 
that learned and clear-sighted scholar, Erasmus, the most 
eulogistic notice. " What hopes" said he, " may we not con- 
ceive of Philip Melancthon, though as yet very young and 
almost a boy, but equally to be admired for his proficiency 

* Eclectic Review. 



16 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

in the languages! What quickness of invention! What 
purity of diction ! What vastness of memory ! What vari- 
ety of reading ! What a modesty and gracefulness of be- 
havior ! And what a princely mind ! " Melancthon was but 
eighteen when he received, as he richly merited, this high 
compliment. 

We have no detailed account of the process of his con- 
version from the prevalent errors of popery, or of the steps 
attending the great change hi his own heart from a state of 
impenitence to that of a regenerated believer, although his 
life and temper soon gave the most convincing testimony of 
the thoroughness of the work of grace in his soul. It is 
recorded, that while at Tubigen, where he finished his studies 
and commenced teaching, he diligently studied the sacred 
Scriptures, and always carried about with him a copy of the 
Bible. By holding this constantly in his hand during divine 
services, he laid himself open to the suspicion and persecu- 
tion of the bigoted Romanists around him. 

Whatever means God employed to open his mind and 
change his heart, his first convictions were so powerful when 
the beams of divine light broke in upon his mind, that he 
entertained no doubt of his being able to bring others to 
embrace the same efficacious truths. All that was needed, 
he thought, was a luminous and earnest exposition of the 
gospel in all its scriptural simplicity, but in carrying out his 
benevolent endeavors, he soon found, as he said, " that old 
Adam was too strong for young Melancthon ! " 

In 1518, Melancthon was made professor of Greek in the 
University of Wittemberg, an office which he filled with the 
highest credit to himself, as well as to the benefit of the youth 
of that part of Germany. Attracted by the report of his 
erudition and talents, immense numbers crowded to the Uni- 
versity, and when he delivered his lectures his audience 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 17 

often amounted to more than two thousand persons. He 
published a variety of works on rhetoric, logic and grammar; 
nor did he, amidst his numerous literary occupations and 
labors, neglect the study of divinity. In this department 
he produced several treatises, both polemical and exegeti- 
cal. Luther, in writing a preface to Melancthon's Comments 
upon Collossians, candidly says that he preferred the writings 
of Melancthon to his own, and was much more desirous that 
they should be extensively read. " I," says he, "am born 
to be for ever fighting with opponents, and with the devil him- 
self, which gives a controversial and warlike cast to all my 
writings. I clear the ground of stumps and trees, root up 
thorns and briars, fill up ditches, raise causeways, and 
smooth the roads through the woods ; but to Philip Melanc- 
thon by the grace of God it belongs, to perform a milder and 
more grateful labor, — to build, to plant, to sow, to water, to 
please by elegance and taste." 

It was while Melancthon was at Wittemberg, that the 
Reformation broke out with power. Luther filled the chair 
of divinity in the same institution, his mind enlightened by 
the perusal of the Scriptures, and his heart regenerated and 
at peace through simple faith in Christ. The influence of 
these two learned and pious men over the multitude of stu- 
dents that now came pouring into the University, and thence 
were sent forth throughout Germany, began to be sensibly 
felt, and the way was prepared for the utter renunciation of 
papal superstitions, and the profession of Protestant Christ- 
ianity whenever the fitting hour should arrive. It came in 
November of 1518, with the scandalous bull of the luxurious 
and prodigal Leo X., whose treasury being exhausted, can- 
vassed with his minions the Catholic provinces of Europe for 
the sale of indulgences to commit the most heinous crimes. 
In the thunder tones of Luther, Germany cried out against 
2* 



18 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

this sacrilege, and in 1520, Luther publicly burned in 
Wittemburg, in the presence of a multitude of people, no 
one resisting the act, the bull of the Pope declaring his 
doctrines heretical, ordering them to be burned and excom- 
municating Luther himself from the church. A deep im- 
pression was made by this act and his public defences, upon 
the minds of the people ; their reverence for ancient institu- 
tions and doctrines was shaken ; and the materials were 
already scattered, which kindled into a flame that soon 
spread over all Germany. 

In the first public discussion, which took place in 1519 
between Luther and Eckius, who, as the champion of the 
Church of Rome, challenged the former to an open debate, 
Luther so clearly worsted his opponent, exposed the false 
pretensions, unworthy superstitions, and appalling crimes of 
the papal church, that Melancthon was fully convinced of 
the correctness of Luther's position, and heartily embraced 
his views. From this time until his death he became the 
eloquent and polished defender of the doctrines of the Refor- 
mation, illustrating their beauty, truth and power, by his 
meek and holy life. 

In 1530, he was called upon to defend the Protestant 
cause before the Diet at Augsburg. " He was put forward 
by his own party, as the ablest among a host of able men ; 
and he appears, on the whole, to have acquitted himself 
admirably. It is reported of William, Duke of Bavaria, 
who vehemently opposed the doctrines of the Gospel, that 
as soon as the Confession of Faith drawn up by Melancthon 
had been read, he asked Eckius, whether they could over- 
throw this doctrine out of the Scriptures. ' No,' replied 
Eckius, ' by the Holy Scriptures we cannot overthrow it, 
but we may by the fathers.' Upon which the Cardinal 
Albert, archbishop of Mentz, said to the Duke of Bavaria, 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 19 

' Behold how finely our divines support us ! The Protestants 
prove what they say out of the Holy Scriptures, but we 
have our doctors without Scripture.' It is said, that during 
the imperial Diet of Augsburg, this same Albert, invested 
with so high a degree of ecclesiastical dignity, had by some 
means obtained a Bible, and read it attentively for four 
hours, when one of his council suddenly entering his cham- 
ber, asked, with much astonishment, what his highness was 
doing with that book ? to which he replied, — 'I know not 
what this book is, but sure I am, all that is written therein 
is quite against us.' " 

During a conference that was held at this Diet, an occur- 
rence happened, exhibiting a characteristic and commendable 
trait of this most conscientious and honorable man. The 
learned and ingenious Eckius had propounded in the discus- 
sion an artful and puzzling sophism, which, for a moment, 
Melancthon could not unravel. " I will give you an answer 
to-morrow," said he. Eckius represented it as a disgrace 
that so noted a scholar should require so much time to rally 
his thoughts. " My good doctor," was Melancthon's noble 
reply, " / am not seeking my own glory in this affair , but 
the truth." 

On the 28th of January, 1546, it pleased God to remove 
Luther, the great light of the Reformation, from the troubles 
and conflicts of the church militant to the rest and rewards 
of the church triumphant. He died away from his home in 
"Wittemberg, at his native town Eisleben, having journeyed 
thither on a mission of peace, to reconcile to each other two 
brothers, — the Counts of Mansfield. He was taken sud- 
denly sick, but the religion of Jesus Christ which he had so 
faithfully preached, now powerfully sustained him. Two 
doctors arriving together, with his wife who had been sum- 
moned to his bedside, "I am dying," said he ; "I shall 



20 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

remain at Eisleben." His friend doctor Jonas expressing a 
hope that the perspiration would perhaps relieve him : " No, 
dear Jonas," " replied he, " it is a cold and dry sweat, and 
the pain is worse." He then devoutly applied himself to 
prayer, and said, "0, my God! Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, thou art the God of all consolation, I thank thee for 
having revealed to me thy well beloved Son, in whom I 
believe ; whom I have preached and acknowledged ; whom 
I have loved and honored ; and whom the Pope and the un- 
godly persecute. I commend my soul to thee, my Saviour 
Jesus Christ ! I shall leave this terrestrial body; I shall be 
taken from this life ; but I knoio that I shall rest eternally 
with thee." He then three times repeated, — "Into thy 
hands I commend my spirit ; thou art my Redeemer, God 
of truth." His eyes suddenly closed and he fainted. As 
he recovered a little, Dr. Jonas said to him, " Reverend 
Father, do you die in constant reliance on the faith you have 
taught?" He replied distinctly, « Yes!" He then fell 
asleep again, and soon after, drawing one deep breath, he 
expired. 

Deeply was his death mourned by Melancthon, who upon 
its first announcement, cried out in the language of Elisha, 
"My father! my Father! the chariot of Israel, and the 
horsemen thereof!" 

Upon his shoulders now fell largely the weight of the still 
unsettled reformation, and courageously he girded himself 
up for the conflict. We have not room in this short sketch 
to follow him in his various and successful struggles with the 
man of sin ; these are fully set forth in his most interesting 
biography by Cox. We now come to the close of his labo- 
rious and faithful life. It is our privilege to enter his sick 
room and hear his solemn and confiding communions with 
his Saviour, and to witness the strength and sincerity of his 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 21 

faith in the blessed Gospel of the Son of God. He haxl 
intellectually received the doctrines of the cross, and he had 
experimentally tested their power in his heart and over his 
life, and now religion sweetened for him the cup of affliction, 
composed his mind in the midst of harrassing cares, and 
threw the radiance of heaven over the entrance to his tomb. 
Many of his early friends and co-laborers in the great work 
in which he had been engaged had already fallen. His 
beloved wife left him for heaven, while he was away from 
home. He had become thoroughly weaned from this world, 
and when he received the tidings of her death, he uttered 
but a kind and tender farewell, saying, " that he expected 
very soon to follow her." 

" Some days before he died, he wrote on a piece of paper, 
in two columns, the reasons why he ought not to be sorry at 
leaving the world. One of the columns contained the bless- 
ings which death would procure for him ; and the other con- 
tained the evils from which death would deliver him. The 
former column included six particulars: — 1. That he should 
come to the light. 2. That he should see God. 3. That 
he should contemplate the Son of God. 4. That he should 
understand those admirable mysteries which he could not 
comprehend in this life. 5. That he should know why we 
are created such as we are. 6. What is the union of the 
two natures in Jesus Christ. 

" The latter column had only two articles. 1. That he 
should sin no more. 2. That he should be no longer exposed 
to the vexation and rage of divines." 

He continued his academical duties as long as his strength 
would admit of his creeping to his lecture-room. One of 
his last lectures was upon the last prayer of the Saviour, 
recorded in the seventeenth chapter of the Gospel of John. 
He divided this prayer into three parts, as embracing so 



22 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

many distinct objects. 1. That a church might exist in the 
world. 2. That it might be distinguished by its unity and 
concord. 3. That his people might be heirs of that salva- 
tion and eternal life which belongs to the heavenly church. 
He begged his hearers to remember after his decease, cer- 
tain passages to which he especially directed their attention 
in this last prayer, and repeating the above division, he said 
impressively, "lam a dying man, and these are the three 
subjects for intercession with God which I leave to my child- 
ren and their little ones, — that they may form a part of his 
church and worship him aright, — that they may be one in 
him and live in harmony with each other, — and that they 
may be fellow heirs of eternal life." 

With his friends he spoke of death with the utmost com- 
posure. "He dreaded nothing," he said, "so much, as 
becoming a useless cumberer of the ground," and prayed if 
his life was protracted that he might be useful to the youth 
under his care, and to the church of Jesus Christ. In con- 
versing with his friend Camerarius he appropriated the lan- 
guage of Paul, " I have a desire to depart and be with 
Christ." " He criticised upon the Greek terms, which, he 
said, ought to be rendered, ' Having a desire to remove, 
pass on, or set about proceeding in the journey ' — that is, 
to go from this life of toil and wretchedness to the blessed 
rest of heaven." When his friend Camerarius who had 
remained some time with him, was about to leave, he said, 
" My dear Doctor Joachim, we have been joined in bonds of 
friendship forty years, a friendship mutually sincere and 
affectionate. We have been helpers of each other with 
disinterested kindness in our respective stations and employ 
ments as teachers of youth, and I trust our labors have been 
useful ; and though it be the will of God that I die, our 
friendship shall be perpetuated and cultivated in another 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 23 

world." As he departed the dying man impressively and 
affectionately gave him his last benediction : " Jesus Christ, 
the Son of God, who sitteth at the right hand of the Father, 
and giveth gifts to men, preserve you and yours, and all of 
us!" 

The day before he died, " his bed was removed by his 
own desire, into the library, which he had continually fre- 
quented during his illness ; up.on which occasion he said with 
great cheerfulness, as he was placed upon it, — < This may 
be called, I think, my travelling couch, — if (alluding to the 
criticism above mentioned) I should remove in it.' * * In 
the course of the day seeing one of his grandchildren near 
him, ' Dear child,' said he, ' I have loved you most affec- 
tionately ; see that you reverence your parents, and always 
endeavor to please them, and fear Grod, who never will for- 
sake you. I pray you may share his constant regard and 
benediction.' He spoke in similar terms of tenderness and 
piety to all the younger branches of his family, who were 
deeply sensible of his approaching departure." 

On the morning of his death he repeated feebly but dis- 
tinctly, a most solemn and impressive form of prayer which 
he had written for his own daily use. An interval of repose 
having elapsed after this, he lifted up his eyes to heaven 
and turning to his son-in-law, said, " I have been in the 
power of death, but the Lord has graciously delivered me," 
alluding to some conflict with the adversary. " When some 
of the by-standers said, ' There is now no condemnation to 
them that are in Christ Jesus,' he soon said, ' Christ is made 
to us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption,' 
' Let him that glorieth, glory in the Lord.' * * Upon being 
asked by his son-in-law if he would have any thing else, he 
replied in these emphatic words, ' aliud nihil, — nisi coelum: ' 
nothing else, — but heaven ! and desired that he might 



24 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

not be further interrupted. Soon afterwards he made a 
similar request, entreating those around him, who were en- 
deavoring with officious kindness to adjust his clothes, — 'not 
to disturb his delightful repose.' After some time, his 
friends united with the minister present in solemn prayer, 
and several passages of Scripture, in which he was known 
always to have expressed peculiar pleasure, were read, such 
as ' Let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in God, be- 
lieve also in me. In my Father's house, are many man- 
sions.' ' My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and 
they follow me ; ' particularly the fifth of Romans, and the 
triumphal close of the eighth chapter, commencing ' If God 
be for us, who can be against us.' Many other passages of 
Scripture were recited, and the last word he uttered was the 
German particle of affirmation Ja, in reply to "Winshemius, 
who had inquired if he understood him while reading. The 
last motion which his friends who surrounded him to the 
number of twenty, could discern, was a slight motion of the 
countenance, which was peculiar to him when deeply affected 
with religious joy! — 'Mark the perfect man, and behold 
the upright, for the end of that man is peace ! ' 

" At length, in the midst of solemn vows and supplications, 
at a quarter before seven in the evening of the 19th of 
April, 1560, at the age of sixty-three years, he gently 
breathed his last. No distractions of mind, no foreboding 
terrors of conscience agitated this attractive scene. His 
chamber was ' privileged beyond the common walks of vir- 
tuous life — quite in the verge of heaven ' — and he expired 
like a wave scarcely curling to the evening zephyr of an 
unclouded summer sky, and gently rippling to the shore. It 
was a ' departure ' — a ' sleep ' — 'the earthly house of this 
tabernacle was dissolved /' " 

Surely, then, in his own language at the funeral of Luther, 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 25 

" such a pious and tranquil removal from a toilsome and 
afflictive life, ought to be a subject of joy, rather than of 
lamentation, and each of us should entreat God, that in the 
possession of a similar peace of conscience, from faith, 
acknowledgment of the truth and ardent devotion of mind, 
he would conduct us from our present imprisonment to his 
eternal presence." 

The greatest enemies of this good man, says Mosheim, 
" have borne testimony to his merit. They have been forced 
to acknowledge, that the annals of antiquity exhibit very 
few worthies that may be compared with him ; whether we 
consider the extent of his knowledge in things human and 
divine, the fertility and elegance of his genius, the facility 
and quickness of his comprehension, or the uninterrupted 
industry that attended his learned and theological labors. 
He rendered to philosophy and the liberal arts, the same 
eminent service that Luther had done to religion, by purging 
them from the dross with which they had been corrupted ; 
and by recommending them in a powerful and persuasive 
manner to the study of the Germans. He had the rare 
talent of discerning truth in all its most intricate connections 
and combinations, of comprehending at once the most ab- 
stract notions, and expressing them with the utmost per- 
spicuity and ease. And he applied this happy talent in 
religious disquisitions, with such unparalleled success, that it 
may safely be affirmed, that the cause of Christianity derived 
from the learning and genius of Melancthon, more signal 
advantage, and a more effectual support, than it received 
from any of the other doctors of the age." 

" Oh ! who would envy those who die 

Victims on ambition's shrine ! 
Though idiot man may rank them high, 
And to the slain in victory, 

Pay honors half divine ; 

3 



THE EMINENT DEAD. 

To feel this heaving, flattering breath, 
Stilled by the lightest touch of death, 

The happier lot be mine ! 
I would not, that the murdering brand, 
Were the last weapon in my hand. 
He of whom these pages tell, 
He, a soldier too — of truth, 
He a hero from his youth ; 
How delightfully he fell ! 
Not in the crash, and din, and flood, 
Of execrations, groans, and hlood,, 
Eiveting fetters on the good ! — 
But happily and well." 



JOHN CALVIN. 

Illustrious among the noble band of reformers is tho 
name of John Calvin. He was born at Noyen, in France, 
July 10, 1509. His father, a sensible and prudent man in 
humble life, with much sacrifice, but cheerfully borne, fur- 
nished him with the means of obtaining a good education. 

Young Calvin giving early promise of intelligence and 
piety, his father directed his attention to theological studies, 
as opening the best field for his future labors, and as, in a 
measure, indicated by the hand of Providence. He there- 
fore procured for him in his twentieth year a benefice in the 
Catholic Cathedral church at Noyen. But Calvin did not 
long remain in this position. Having carefully examined 
the Holy Scriptures, he became heartily disgusted with the 
Church of Rome, and resolved to renounce her communion. 

Upon his quitting the church, at the earnest request of 
his father, he applied himself to the study of the law, re- 
moving to Orleans, where, under one of the most celebrated 



JOHN CALVIN. 27 

lawyers of the day, he made rapid progress, being soon con- 
sidered rather a master than a scholar, and in the absence 
of the professors he often supplied their places, acquiring 
the highest esteem in the University. 

His father dying, he was obliged to leave his legal studies 
and return home. At the age of twenty-four, he published 
his " Commentary upon Seneca's Book on Clemency." 

Shortly after his father's death he visited Paris, became 
acquainted with many of the reformed church, who held 
secret assemblages in this city^ and allied himself at once 
with them. To their inexpressible satisfaction, he renounced 
the pursuit of all other sciences and devoted himself again 
to theology. 

He was soon forced by the persecutions raised against the 
reformed church by the Catholics, to leave Paris, and retired 
into the country, from whence he soon set out for Switzerland, 
where the reformed doctrines had been widely spread and 
the hand of persecution was impotent. At this time he 
brought out the body of divinity still received by a large 
number of the members of the Evangelical church, and 
bearing his name by way of theological distinction. His 
work was entitled " Christian Institutes," and was intended 
to serve as an apology and a defence for his reformed breth- 
ren. The volume was dedicated to Francis I, King of 
France, and the dedication has been universally admired 
u both for the elevation and dignity of the sentiments, and 
the strength and purity of the language in which they are 
conveyed." 

He afterwards visited Italy, " and was cordially received 
and entertained by the celebrated duchess of Ferrara, whose 
sentiments were not very remote from those of the reformers. 
But the Inquisition soon compelled him to quit this country 
and return to France." 



28 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

In those days the persecuting and depraved Roman church 
gave no rest to those who left her communion and sought a 
purer worship. The faggot, the prison and the torture were 
now in incessant use. Calvin could find no resting place in 
his own country, but was forced to fly again to Switzerland. 
" Passing through Geneva, on bis journey, in August, 1536, 
he was prevailed upon by the pressing entreaties of Farel, 
one of the' reformed pastors, to fix his abode there, and 
accept a ministerial charge. 

" Geneva, at that time, was full of disorders and strifes, 
and the most flagrant immorality stalked forth with unblush- 
ing effrontery in the face of day. Our reformer severely 
reproved the vices and irregularities then prevalent, and as 
a consequence incurred much odium. The magistrates pro- 
cured an order from the council, by which Calvin and two 
other faithful ministers, were- commanded to leave the town 
within three days. Calvin hearing this order, said, — ' Cer- 
tainly, if I had served men, I should have been ill-recom- 
pensed ; but I have served a Master, who, far from not 
rewarding his servants, pays them what he does not owe 
them.' He retired to Strasburg, and the council of that 
town, by the advice of Bucer and Capito, appointed him 
professor of theology, and pastor of a French church, (refu- 
gees from persecution.) Here he republished his Institutes, 
married a widow of great prudence and piety, and employed 
himself successfully in reclaiming many Anabaptists brought 
to him from various parts. 

" In the year 1541, by desire of the ministers of Strasburg, 
he -assisted at the Diet of "Worms, and so highly pleased 
Philip Melancthon, that he always spoke of him in the 
highest terms, calling him the Theologian. 

"By this time the inhabitants of Geneva were sensible of 
the loss they had sustained in the banishment of Calvin, and 



JOHN CALVIN. 29 

wrote, earnestly requesting him to return ; but he replied 
that he now belonged to Strasburg. The council then sent 
Ami Perrin, one of the elder magistrates, to Strasburg, to 
entreat the magistrates to restore Calvin to Geneva, to which 
they at length consented. In Geneva he was received with 
acclamation by the people, and treated with every mark of 
respect by the magistrates." 

The presence and commanding genius of Calvin, was soon 
felt in the city. Thousands of refugees from all parts of 
Europe were attracted thither by the reputation he bore as 
a master in Protestant Israel, and by the immunities he 
procured for them through his influence on the municipal 
government. The labors of Calvin were unceasing and of 
the most onerous character. " During a fortnight in each 
month, he preached every da}^ ;« gave three lectures on the- 
ology every week ; assisted at all the deliberations of the 
consistory ; and, at the meetings of the pastors, met the 
congregation every Friday ; instructed the French churches 
by the frequent advices which they solicited from him, and 
defended the reformation against the attacks of its enemies ; 
as well as published several works, which, for their solidity 
and depth, are calculated for the instruction of every age. 
In addition to these occupations, the council, knowing him to 
be an excellent lawyer, as well as theologian, habitually con- 
sulted him in all important concerns, and charged him with 
many painful and difficult commissions, which obliged him 
often to undertake long journeys." 

Calvin was " remarkably temperate in his living; prudent 
and judicious ; grave and serious, and interesting in his 
social intercourse ; diligent and punctual in the despatch of 
business ; fervid and frequent in the exercise of devotion. 
His greatest fault was an irritability of temper, which some- 
times ruffled and clouded his mind; yet of this he was 



80 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

deeply sensible, and not only ingenuously confessed, but 
labored to subdue it. When Bucer blamed his vehemence, 
Calvin wrote to him and acknowledged his fault. ' My 
struggles,' said he, ' are not greater against my vices, 
which are great and numerous, than against my impatience, 
and my efforts are not wholly useless ; I have not, however, 
been able yet to conquer that ferocious animal.' " 

There is one painful event recorded in the life of this 
good man. He was undoubtedly sincere in the course he 
took, but the darkness of the age blinded his usually clear 
and certain judgment. We refer to the part he bore in the 
persecution and death of the misguided Servetus. "The 
blasphemies which that extravagant heretic uttered, and the 
insolence with which he ridiculed and attacked principles 
generally reverenced, however odious they might render him, 
ought not to have brought him to the stake. Calvin con- 
curred with the magistrates in inflicting this direful punish- 
ment, and whatever ingenious apologists may write, the deed 
must be unequivocally condemned. In this instance ho 
acted contrary to the benignant spirit of the gospel. Let 
us drop a tear over the inconsistency of human nature, and 
bewail those infirmities which w r e cannot justify. Cranmer 
acted the same part toward the poor Anabaptists, in the reign 
of Edward YI. This doctrine they had learned from Rome ; 
and it is certain, that, with very few exceptions, it was at 
that time the opinion of all parties." * 

In the beginning of the year 1564, his health began 
rapidly to decline. " For ten years, the weakness of his 
stomach had been such, that he had been accustomed to take 
but a small quantity of food. He was subject to a severe 
headache, the only remedy for which was fasting ;. on account 
of which he was sometimes thirty-six hours without eating. 

* Thornton. 



JOHN CALVIN. 31 

When cured, in a measure, of this infirmity, he was attacked 
with the gout, and was afterwards afflicted with the colic 
and the stone. Under the pressure of all these complicated 
maladies, he was never known to pronounce a single word 
unworthy of a Christian, or even of a man of constancy and 
courage. In his greatest agonies, lifting up his eyes to 
heaven, he was accustomed only to repeat the words — ' How 
long, Lord ? ' When importuned not to dictate or write 
during his illness, — ' Would you,' said he, ' that when the 
Lord comes he should surprise me in idleness V" A few 
days before he died, conscious of his rapid dissolution, he 
requested the magistrates of the city to assemble for the 
purpose of receiving his dying counsels and benedictions. 
The effect of this sublime scene was overwhelming. " The 
seigneurs who considered him their common father, deeply 
felt this parting address, and many of them melted into 
tears." 

"On the 28th of April, the ministers of the town and 
neighborhood being assembled, by his desire, in his own 
room, he, with great solemnity and affection, admonished 
and encouraged them, as one standing on the verge of eter- 
nity. From this time, to the period of his death, he was 
incessantly employed in prayer to God. It was, indeed, in 
a low voice, interrupted by shortness of breath, with which 
he was oppressed ; but his sparkling eyes, constantly directed 
toward heaven, and the serenity of his countenance, evinced 
the ardor of his petitions, and his confidence in the mercy 
of God. ' In his most violent pains, he frequently repeated 
these words of David, — ' I was dumb because thou didst it. 
Lord, thou bruisest me, but I suffer with patience, since it is 
thy hand that hath done it.' On the 24th of May, he 
appeared to speak with less difficulty and more strength, but 
it was the last effort of nature. About eight in the evening 



32 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the signs of death appeared in his face ; he continued 
speaking with great propriety until his last breath, when he 
appeared rather to fall asleep than to die. Thus at the early 
age of fifty-four, expired one of the brightest luminaries 
of the Protestant world." 

" Jesus can make the dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head, 
And breath my life out sweetly there." 



PHILIP DE MORNAY, LORD OF PLESSIS. 

France has had the honor of producing some of the 
most eminent men for intelligence and piety that the world 
has ever known, and has also suffered the sad dishonor of 
either driving them from her bosom by persecution, or of 
fattening her soil with their martyred blood. The subject 
of this sketch was an illustrious French Protestant, and was 
born at Buhy, in 1549. His father was a zealous Roman 
Catholic and intended to educate his son for the service of 
that church, but his mother, who had secretly embraced the 
reformed doctrines, early instructed her son in the principles 
of a purer gospel. At the early age of eight, he was sent 
to a college in Paris, but returned home two years after- 
wards upon the death of his father, in 1560. 

His mother now openly espoused the Protestant cause, 
and gave a more decided inclination to the character and 
life of her son. Returning again to the college in Paris, 
after some time spent at home, he applied himself with the 
greatest diligence to his studies. " So great was his pro- 
ficiency in the learned languages, including the Hebrew, as 



PHILIP DE MORNAY. 33 

well as in the belles lettres, philosophy and the mathematics, 
that his tutors could but express their astonishment ; and 
the most learned men were lavish in their praises of his 
abilities, and attainments. Together with his other studies, 
he had paid particular attention to that of divinity, and be- 
came a well-informed and determined adherent to the princi- 
ples of the Protestant religion." Persecution breaking out 
in Paris, he was forced to fly, and while proceeding to join 
his maternal uncles, to serve them in a military capacity, his 
horse fell and he broke the bones of his leg. During his 
confinement, he composed some very reputable poems. In 
1568, to perfect his studies, and also to secure the entire 
recovery of his health, he commenced an extensive tour of 
the continent, and continued his journey to England, where 
he met with a cordial reception from the Protestant Queen 
Elizabeth ; the fame of his knowledge and accomplishments 
having preceded him. 

" During these travels, M. Du Plessis, though a very 
young man, was distinguished for temperance, and never 
suffered himself to be seduced by indulgence fn pleasure, 
from making such inquiries and observations as might con- 
tribute to enlarge his stock of useful knowledge, or furnish 
him to supply rational entertainment to his friends." 

He returned to France just before the execution of the 
diabolical plan for the massacre of the Protestants. His 
acquaintance with courts, and his shrewd penetrating mind 
led him, despite all the false protestations of the Catholics, 
to suspect that some concealed project was in preparation. 
He communicated his suspicions to Admiral Coligny, one of 
the bulwarks of Protestantism, in the French court, but this 
great and good man could not bring himself to believe his 
king would be insincere and perjure himself. Du Plessis 
sent his mother and family away, but would not himself for- 



84 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

sake the admiral and his Protestant friends in this terrible 
hour. The fatal eve of St. Bartholomew's day arrived, 
August 24th, 1572. Exactly at the hour of midnight, (fit 
hour for such a deed of darkness,) the great alarm bell in 
the Palais Roy ale rung out its awful peal, as the signal for 
the slaughter to commence. The pious admiral was one of 
the first victims. When told of his danger: — "I perceive," 
said he, " what is doing. I was never afraid of death ; and 
I am ready to undergo it patiently, as I have long since 
prepared myself for it. I bless God, I shall die in the 
Lord, through whose grace I am elected to a hope of ever- 
lasting life. I now need no longer any help of man. You, 
my friends, therefore get hence as fast as you can. The 
presence of God, to whose goodness I recommend my soul, 
which will be shortly separated from my body, is abundantly 
sufficient for me." A few moments after, the sword of the 
assassin realized his expectation, and afforded him an " abun- 
dant entrance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ." M. du Plessis " being awakened by 
the noise of ^the soldiery and the furious populace, who were 
busy in the work of murder, hastily dressed himself, and 
attempted to reach the apartments of the admiral, but learn- 
ing that he, and others of the Protestant chiefs, had already 
fallen under the swords of the assassins, he took measures 
for his own preservation. During three days, under various 
disguises, and with the aid of compassionate Catholics, he 
continued undetected amidst surrounding scenes of slaugh- 
ter, and then made his escape into the country." He 
then went privately with his family to England, where he 
was again most kindly received. In this massacre of the 
Protestants by the Catholics in Paris and throughout France, 
it is computed that full seventy thousand were slain. 

Upon the Protestant King of Navarre, afterwards Henry 



PHILIP DE MORNAY. 35 

IV., being called to the throne of France in 1589, he 
was made counsellor of France and governor of Saumur. 
" When, soon after, the king gave intimations of his intended 
conformity to the Catholic church, M. du Plessis made use 
of all his masterly powers of reasoning to dissuade his 
majesty from that measure, and was not sparing in his rep- 
resentations of the disgrace which the sacrifice of principle 
to the motives of policy or interest, would attach to his mem- 
ory. After the king had actually reconciled himself to the 
Church of Rome, M. du Plessis withdrew from the court, 
and occupied himself in his studies, in the duties of his gov- 
ernment, and in exertions for the Protestant cause." For 
opposing Louis XIII. in 1621, in his intended war against 
the Protestants, he was displaced from the government of 
Saumur, and retired to his barony in Poitou, where he 
remained greatly respected until his death. 

" The writings of Philip de Mornay," says his biographer, 
" were, and still are of essential service to the cause of true 
religion. It may excite our surprise, that a dignified states- 
man, occupied in a multitude of momentous secular affairs, 
could find time to compose works of such magnitude and 
research, on topics intimately connected with the best and 
eternal interests of mankind." He was the author of a 
treatise on Roman Catholicism, called "The Mystery of 
Iniquity ; or the History of the Papacy," a clear and power- 
ful argument against this corrupt church. He also published 
a work addressed to the Jews, concerning the Messiah. 
" But the work by which he is best known, is his admira- 
ble treatise * On the Truth of the Christian Religion ; ' in 
which all the weapons that reason and learning supply, are 
wielded with great force and skill against Atheists, Epicu- 
reans, Heathens, Jews, Mahometans, and other Infidels." 

His death was tranquil and happy. By the signal Provi- 



30 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

dence of God, he" had passed through several terrible scenes 
of persecution and escaped with his life. In his barony, 
where he resided the last days of his life, he not only com- 
manded the regard and veneration of his Protestant friends, 
but also won the estimation of the Catholics both by his extra- 
ordinary abilities and by the useful and amiable private vir- 
tues which adorned his character. " When he had made 
his will, he said 'Now am I discharged from one of my 
chief concerns, and shall leave peace in my family ; hence- 
forth I have nothing else to look to but death and eternity.' 
The minister of the gospel whom he had retained, having 
told him that he had happily used his talents for the profit 
of the church, and the advancement of the kingdom of 
Christ : — ' Alas ! ' said he, ' what was there of mine in the 
work? Say not -that it was I, but God by me.' This he 
repeated again and again, adding, in the words of the apos- 
tle, ' I have labored ; yet not I, but the grace of God which 
was with me.' 

" A little before his death, he discoursed much upon the 
vanity and transitoriness of all worldly things ; quoting the 
passage of Pindar which declares, ' the life of man to be but 
a dream of a shadow,' and the words of Paul, who says, ' the 
fashion of this world passe th away.' 

" Soon after, being laid upon his bed, he said, ' There is 
nothing more just and reasonable than that the creature 
should obey his creator ! ' Then lifting up his hands, he cried, 
' Mercy, mercy, mercy,' and declared he did so, to show 
that his sole recourse was to the mercy of God. ' I call for 
nothing,' said he, * but mercy, free mercy. But who is it 
that shall bring an accusation against the elect of God ? It 
is God that justifieth : so that neither life nor death, nor 
things present nor things to come, shall ever be. able to sep- 
arate him from the love of his Saviour.' 



PHILIP DE MORNAY. 37 

" In the morning of the clay he died, he prayed in Latin, 
"saying, ' Lord open thou my lips, and I will show forth thy 
Draise. Lord make me to know my sins, to weep for them, 
to detest them, to have them in execration,' and this prayer 
he uttered twice. He then said in the words of the aposfcle, 
and with great emphasis, — ' We know that if our earthly 
house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building of 
God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' 
After which, being asked, if he were not assured of sharing 
in that eternal weight of glory, spoken of by the apostle ? 
he replied, ' He was perfectly persuaded of it, and was so, 
by the demonstration of the Holy Spirit, more powerful, 
more clear, and certain, than any demonstration of Euclid ;' 
immediately repeating in Greek, 1 Cor. ii. 4. c And my 
speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of 
man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit, and of 
power.' 

" In the afternoon he was heard to say to himself, in a 
broken manner, ' I fly, I fly to heaven : the angels carry me 
into the bosom of my Saviour. I know that my Redeemer 
liveth, and I shall see him with these eyes, these very eyes,' 
which he again and again repeated. As he grew weaker 
and weaker, he was asked from time to time, if he felt not 
in his soul the power of the Holy Spirit, sealing to him the 
promises of God, and filling him with consolation ? One of 
his answers was, — ' Yes, indeed ; ' another 'lam assured 
of it.' And a third was, — ' The love of God is in my 
heart.' " Thus, in the lively exercise of faith, at the ad- 
vanced age of seventy-four years, he triumphantly passed 
through the " gates of death," into the paradise of God. 

" 0, if my Lord would come and meet, 

My soul would stretch her wings in haste, 
Fly fearless through death's iron gate, 
Nor feel the terrors as she passed ! " 

4 



38 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



GEORGE WISHART. 

The steadfast and triumphant martyr whose name stands 
at the head of this sketch, -was born and educated in Scot- 
land. In order to pursue his studies to a higher grade than 
he found opportunities in his native country, he came to 
England, and entered Bennet College, Cambridge. He left 
Cambridge in 1544, and returned to his own country. He 
commenced his zealous and faithful preaching in "Montrose, 
and afterwards labored in Dundee. The light of the Refor- 
mation had but just broken upon Scotland. Patrick Hamil- 
ton had labored with some success in the northern part of 
the country, but the minds of the people were still blinded 
and perverted by papal superstitions. Wishart stood forth 
fearlessly as the herald of a new gospel, and was a diligent 
and naming preacher of the cross. " He was," says Mr. 
Fleming, " one of the most extraordinary embassadors of 
Christ that can be named ; was the great friend, and it is 
believed, the spiritual father of the famous John Knox." 

While laboring in Dundee, he was publicly forbidden, in 
the language of the accusation, " to trouble the town with 
his ministrations." Musing awhile upon this, with his eyes 
turned to heaven, then addressing the speaker and people, 
" God is my witness," said he, " that I never intended your 
trouble but your comfort ; yea your trouble is more grievous 
to me than it is to yourselves ; but I am assured, to refuse 
God's word, and chase away his messenger, will not preserve 
you from trouble, but bring you into it : for God shall send 
you ministers that will neither fear burning nor banishment. 
I have offered you the word of salvation. With the hazard 
of my life, I have remained among you, and now you reject 
me. If you long prosper I am not led by the spirit of 



GEORGE WISHART. 39 

truth ; but if unexpected trouble comes upon you, acknowl- 
edge the cause, and turn to God, who is gracious and merci- 
ful." He then left Dundee for the west of Scotland. His 
solemn prediction in reference to the place of his former 
labors was afterwards terribly realized. He received intel- 
ligence not long after he left Dundee, that the plague had 
broken out in the town, and was sweeping multitudes daily 
into eternity. " They are now," said he " in trouble and 
need comfort. Perhaps this hand of God will make them to 
magnify and reverence the word of God, which before they 
lightly esteemed." He therefore courageously returned to 
offer them his sympathies and prayers in the hour of their 
peril. The more pious received him with joy. "He chose 
the East gate for the place of his preaching ; so that the 
healthy were within, and the sick without the gate. His 
text was Ps. cvii. 20 : ' He sent his word and healed them.' 
In this sermon he chiefly dwelt on the advantage and com- 
fort of God's word, the judgments that ensue upon the con- 
tempt or rejection of it, the freedom of God's grace to all 
his people, and the happiness of those of them whom he 
takes to himself out of a miserable world : the hearts of the 
people were so raised by the unction and energy of this dis- 
course, as to fortify them against the fear of death, and fill 
them with consolation." 

This excellent man not only preached the gospel in public, 
but constantly visited, relieved, and exhorted the wretched 
and forsaken victims of disease, and in a short time the 
plague almost ceased. 

Before he left Dundee, an incident occurred which exhib- 
its a striking contrast between the effects of intolerance and 
bigotry, and the fruits of Christian forbearance and charity. 
"Few circumstances," says his biographer, "even in the 
eventful period under review, are so deserving of record and 



40 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

imitation. While Wishart was engaged in his labors of love, 
to assuage the bodily sufferings, and meet the spiritual wants 
of an afflicted people, the Catholic cardinal, Beaton, by name, 
is said to have employed a desperate popish priest to kill 
him. One day, the sermon being ended, and the people 
going away, the priest stood waiting at the bottom of the 
stairs, with a naked dagger in his hand, hid under his gown. 
But Wishart, watching the priest with a sharp eye as he 
came down, said to him, ' My friend, what would you have ? ' 
And immediately clapping his hand on the dagger, took it 
away from him. The priest, terrified, fell on his knees, con- 
fessed his intention, and craved pardon. A noise being 
raised, and it coming to the ears of those who were sick, they 
cried, < Deliver the traitor to us, or we will take him by 
force ;' and they burst in at the gate. But Wishart taking 
the priest in his arms, said, ' Whatsoever hurts him, shall 
hurt me ; for he has done me no mischief, but good, by 
teaching me more vigilance in time to come.' And thus he 
appeased them, and saved the priest's life." 

There is another remarkable incident related of Wishart, 
while preaching at Montrose. This same bigoted cardinal 
arranged a plot to secure his death ; " causing a letter to be 
sent to him as if from his familiar friend, the laird of Kin- 
nier, in which he was desired, with all possible speed, to 
come to him, because he was suddenly taken sick. In the 
mean time, the cardinal had provided sixty men armed, to 
lie in wait within a mile and a half of Montrose, to murder 
him as he passed. The letter coming to Wishart' s hand by 
a boy, who also brought him a horse for the journey, he, 
with some friends, set out ; but suddenly stopping by the 
way, and meditating awhile, he returned, which surprised 
his companions, and made them ask the cause, to whom he 
said, 'I will not go, I am forbidden of God. I am assured 



GEORGE WISHART. 41 

there is treason. Let some of you go to yonder place, and 

tell me what you find.' Which having done, they made the 

discovery ; and hastily returning, told Wishart : upon which 

he said, ' I know I shall end my life by that blood-thirsty 

man's hands, but not in that manner.' " 

After this, Wishart preached at Leith, Edinburgh, Hod- 

dington, and in other places, being closely, however, pursued 

by informers and persecutors. One evening having taken 

refuge in the house of his friend, the laird of Ormeston, he 

discoursed to those who gathered there upon God's love to 

his children. After singing the 51st Psalm, he retired to 

his chamber. " Before midnight the house was beset, and 

the earl of Bothwell called for the laird of the house, and 

told him that it was in vain for him to resist, for the governor 

and cardinal were near at hand ; but if he would deliver 

Wishart to him, he would promise upon his honor that he 

should be safe, and that the cardinal should not hurt him. 

Upon this, Wishart said, ' Open the gates, the will of God 

be done ; ' and Bothwell coming in, Wishart said to him, ' I 

praise my God, that so honorable a man as you, my lord, 

receives me this night ; for I am persuaded, that, for your 

honor's sake, }^ou will suffer nothing to be done to me but 

by order of the law : I less fear to die openly, than secretly 

to be murdered.' ' Then,' said Bothwell, ' I will not only 

preserve your body from all violence that shall be intended 

against you without order of law, but I also promise, in the 

presence of these gentlemen, that neither the governor nor 

cardinal shall have their will of you ; but I will keep you in 

my house till I either set you free, or restore you to the 

same place where I receive you.' These promises being 

made in the presence of God, and hands being stricken by 

both parties, the earl took Wishart, and so departed. 

The good man was carried to Edinburgh ; but Bothwell, 
4* 



4Z TIIE EMINENT DEAD. 

moved by gold and court influence, forfeited his solemn 
promise, and delivered him into the cruel hands of Cardinal 
Beaton, who sent to the governor, requesting him to appoint 
some lay judge to pass sentence of death upon Wishart. 
The governor desired to be excused, declaring that he would 
have no hand in shedding the blood of that good man. The 
cardinal, incensed by this refusal, carried Wishart to St. 
Andrews, and put him in the tower there. On February 
28, 1546, the bishop called Wishart before him, to be tried 
for heresy. He was treated with a degree of acrimony and 
indignity, which, even in that age of intolerance, was rarely 
ecmalled. Lawder, a priest, stood over against him, and 
read a scroll full of bitter accusations and curses, spitting in 
his face, and loading him with every kind of abuse. He 
answered the charges laid against him as far as he was per- 
mitted to speak, but was precipitately condemned to the 
flames. 

" After the sentence, he fell on his knees and said, ' Oh, 
immortal God, how long wilt thou suffer the rage and great 
cruelty of the ungodly, to exercise their fury upon thy 
servants, who do further thy word in this world, whereas 
they on the contrary, seek to destroy the truth whereby thou 
hast revealed thyself to the world. Lord, we know cer- 
tainly, that thy true servants must needs suffer for thy 
name's sake, persecutions, afflictions and troubles, in this 
present world ; yet we desire that thou wouldst preserve and 
defend thy church, which thou hast chosen before the foun- 
dation of the world, and give thy people grace to hear thy 
word, and to be thy true servants in the present life.' 

"Near the place of his execution, the castle windows were 
hung with rich hangings, and velvet cushions were laid for 
the cardinal and prelates, who from thence were to feed 
their eves with the torments of this eminent man. Beaton 



GEORGE WISHART. 43 

fearing lest Wishart should be rescued by his friends, caused 
all the ordinance in the castle to be bent against the place of 
his execution, and commanded his gunners to stand ready 
all the time of his burning. Then were his hands bound 
behind his back, and so he was carried forth. In this way 
some beggars met him, asking him alms for God's sake, to 
whom he said, ' My hands are bound, wherewith I was wont 
to give you alms, but the merciful Lord, who, of his bounty 
and abundant grace, feeds all men, vouchsafe to give you 
necessaries, both for your bodies and souls.' Then two 
friars met him, persuading him to pray to our Lady to 
mediate for him, to whom he meekly said — ' Cease, tempt 
me not, I entreat you : ' and so with a rope about his neck, 
and a chain round his middle, he was led to the fire : then 
falling upon his knees, he thrice repeated, ' 0, thou Saviour 
of the world, have mercy upon me ; Father of heaven, I 
commend my spirit into thy holy hands.' Then turning to 
the people he said, ' Christian brethren and sisters, I beseech 
you be not offended at the word of God for your salvation, 
and suffer patiently for the word's sake, which is undoubtedly 
your salvation and everlasting comfort. I pray you also, 
show my brethren and sisters who have often heard me, that 
they cease not to learn the word of God which I have taught 
them according to the measure of grace given me ; and 
show them that the doctrine was no old wife's fables, but the 
truth of God ; for if I had taught men's doctrines, I should 
have had greater thanks from men: but for the sake of 
God's word I now suffer, not sorrowfully, but with a glad 
heart and mind. For this cause I was sent that I should 
suffer this fire for Christ's sake ; behold my face, you shall 
not see one change my countenance. I fear not the fire, and 
if persecution come to you for the word's sake, I pray you 
" fear not them that kill the body, and have no power to hurt 



44 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the soul.' " Then he prayed for them who accused hhn, 
saying, ' I beseech thee, Father of heaven, forgive them that 
have out of ignorance, or of an evil mind, forged lies con- 
cerning me. I forgive them with all my heart ; and I 
beseech Christ to forgive them who have this day ignorantly 
condemned me.' " 

The same magnanimity and astonishing fortitude he mani- 
fested at the stake while his members were being consumed 
in the flames. Such courage combined with meekness and 
a forgiving temper — such manliness and such charity, the 
world has never witnessed outside of the pure church of 
Christ. Deeply were the spectators affected by this melan- 
choly and yet glorious spectacle, and every drop of that 
blessed martyr's blood became seed for the church. 

" Seldom," says his biographer* — from whose pages the 
previous sketch has been compiled — " do we meet, in eccle- 
siastical history, with a character so amiable and interesting 
as that of George Wishart. Excelling all his countrymen, 
at that period, in learning, of the most persuasive eloquence, 
irreproachable in life, courteous and affable in manners ; his 
fervent piety, zeal, and courage, in the cause of truth, were 
tempered with uncommon meekness, modesty, patience, pru- 
dence and charity. In his tour of preaching through Scot- 
land, he was usually accompanied by some of the principal 
gentry ; and the people who flocked to hear him were rav- 
ished with his discourses." 

" God of Israel's faithful three, 

Who braved the tyrant's ire, 
Nobly scorned to bow the knee, 

And walked unhurt in fire ; 
Breathe their faith into my breast; 

Arm me in this fiery hour; 
Stand, Son of man, confessed 

In all thy saving power ! 

* Dr. M. Cries. 



JOHN KNOX. 

For, while thou my Lord, art nigh, 

My soul disdains to fear ; 
Sin and Satan I defy, 

Still impotently near ; 
Earth and hell their wars may wage, 

Calm I mark their vain design ; 
Smile to see them idly rage 

Against a child of thine. 

Unto thee, my help, my hope, 

My safeguard, and my tower, 
Confident I still look up, 

And still receive thy power ; 
All the alien's host I chase, 

Blast and scatter with mine eyes ; 
Satan comes ; I turn my face ; 

And lo ! the tempter flies ! " 



45 



JOHN KNOX. 

This great Scotch reformer was born at Gifford, a village 
of East Lothian, in the year 1505. His parents were de- 
scended from ancient and respectable families, but they were 
themselves " neither great nor opulent." They gave, how- 
ever, their son a liberal education, which was not common in 
those clays. He entered college in 1524, and made great 
proficiency in his studies. He paid also, particular attention 
to theological science.* " He read the fathers of the Chris- 
tian church, and, among the rest, Jerome and Augustine 
attracted his particular attention. By the writings of the 
former, he was led to the Scriptures as the only pure fountain 
of divine truth, and instructed in the utility of studying them 
in the original languages. In the works of the latter, he 

* From a sketch by J. Thornton. 



46 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

found religious sentiments very opposite to those taught in 
the Romish church ; who, "while she retained his name as a 
saint in her calendar, had banished his doctrine from her 
pulpits. From this time he renounced the study of scho- 
lastic theology ; and although not yet completely emancipated 
from superstition, his mind was fitted to improve the means 
which providence had prepared for leading him to a fuller 
and more comprehensive view of the system of evangelical 
religion. It was about 1535 when this favorable change 
commenced ; but it does not appear that he professed him- 
self a Protestant before the year 1542. 

Having at this period discovered his views, it was impos- 
sible for him to remain any longer in safety at St. Andrews, 
where he was then residing, and which was wholly under the 
power of Cardinal Beaton, the most determined supporter of 
popery, and the enemy of all reform. He left that place, 
and retired to the south of Scotland, where, within a short 
time, he avowed his full belief of the Protestant doctrine. 
Provoked by his defection, and alarmed lest he should draw 
others after him, the clergy were anxious to rid themselves 
of such an adversary. Having passed sentence against him 
as an heretic, and degraded him from the priesthood, the 
cardinal employed assassins to waylay him, by whom he 
would have been killed, had not providence placed him under 
the protection of the laird of Langnidclrie." 

Knox having renounced the Catholic ministry, for a while 
devoted himself to teaching in the family of Hugh Douglas. 
His extraordinary powers were soon perceived by his Protes- 
tant friends, and they publicly entreated him to become a 
minister of the gospel ; and in fact almost in spite of his de- 
termined resistance, forced him to enter, in the name of the 
Lord, upon the discharge of this important office. His first 
discourses were characteristic, and exhibited the fearless 



JOHN KNOX. 47 

boldness and majestic presence and power of the man. " He 
attacked the whole system of superstition with a boldness 
which excited astonishment. The preachers who had pre- 
ceded him, not even excepting Wishart, had contented 
themselves with refuting some of the grosser errors of the 
established religion : Knox struck at the root of Popery, by 
boldly pronouncing the Pope to be anti-christ, and the whole 
system erroneous and anti-scriptural." 

His labors were eminently successful ; a multitude of the 
inhabitants of the town of St. Andrews, whither he returned 
upon the violent death of Cardinal Beaton, embraced the 
Protestant faith, and partook of the Lord's Supper. This 
was the first time that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper 
was regularly dispensed after the reformed mode in Scot- 
land. 

The Scotch Catholics, with the assistance of a French fleet 
in 1547, reduced the castle of St. Andrews, whither a 
large number of the Protestants, Knox among them, had 
taken refuge. The garrison capitulated, on condition that 
their lives should be spared, and that those who desired it 
might be conveyed to any country they chose, except Scot- 
land. The articles, however, were violated, and Knox, with 
others, was carried to France, where, bound in chains, they 
were confined in galleys. 

After an imprisonment of nineteen months, he obtained his 
liberty in 1549. He returned to England, and was requested 
to preach in Berwick, where great success attended his la- 
bors. Here he met with the excellent lady who afterwards 
became his wife. 

In the commencement of the reign of the " bloody queen 
Mary," he was again forced to seek safety on the continent. 
He went to Switzerland and was cordially received by the 
brethren of the different Protestant churches. Calvin gave 



48 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

him a warm welcome to Geneva, and treated him with great 
kindness. They were nearly of the same age, and there was 
a marked similarity in their sentiments and characters. He 
remained in Geneva, eagerly pursuing his studies in Hebrew, 
although now advanced in age, and also faithfully preaching 
the gospel and writing valuable treatises upon the questions 
in controversy between the Romanists and Protestants. 
Affairs assuming a more favorable aspect in his native land, 
the lords of the Protestant party in Scotland earnestly be- 
sought his return. With great reluctance on the part of 
the church over which he had charge, he was permitted to 
meet this pressing call of duty, and in 1559 he took his 
leave of Geneva. 

" Knox arrived in Scotland at a very critical juncture, for 
the queen regent had just concerted her plan for the total 
overthrow of the Reformation. By a mixture of cruelty and 
perfidy, which the sequel unfolded, the Protestant ministers 
were outlawed, and devoted to destruction. This intelli- 
gence coming when Knox, at Perth, had, in a sermon, just 
been exposing the idolatry of the mass and image worship, 
the people, roused to fury, pulled down the monasteries, and 
other retreats and ensigns of superstition, and set no bounds 
to their violence. 

" These ravages of the mob have often, by the admirers 
of art and antiquity, been charged upon that barbarous 
Yandal, John Knox, as he is styled, whereas they appear to 
have sprung from the harsh and perfidious conduct of the 
queen. From the time that Knox became minister of the 
congregation in Edinburgh, to the close of his career, we 
find him so prominently engaged in all the great transactions 
of Scotland, that a full account of them would be the his- 
tory of that eventful period. His interviews and rencounters 
with Mary, a queen equally notorious for her personal charms 



JOHN KNOX. 49 

and her detested crimes, are known to every one. No ex- 
pressions are sufficiently strong to describe the horror which 
many feel, at the ' monstrous inhumanity ' of Knox in re- 
maining unmoved, while youth, beauty, and royal dignity, 
were dissolved in tears before him. His opposition to her 
measures, and to the subtle designs of those who sought to 
restore Popery, was neither to be shaken by threatenings, 
nor soothed down by female sensibility, at the shrine of 
romantic gallantry. An unsleeping vigilance was exerted to 
watch his movements and find a pretext for putting so 
troublesome an enemy out of the way. In the year 1563, 
Mary gladly laid hold of a plea which she confidently hoped 
would effect his ruin, and he was tried for treason before the 
nobility ; but he not only came off with safety, it was a 
sort of triumph, not one vote being given against him, except 
from the minions and time-serving creatures of the court. 
His situation, in the year 1571, became very critical. Inti- 
mations were often given him of threatenings against his 
life ; and one evening a musket ball was fired in at his win- 
dow, and lodged in the roof of the apartment in which he 
was sitting. Repeatedly was he almost compelled, by the 
importunity of the citizens, to flee for a time from the immi- 
nent perils to which he was exposed." 

A divine Providence sheltered him — he was immortal 
until his work was done. 

At the close of 1572 his health began rapidly to decline, 
and at his own request an assistant was appointed to fill the 
pastoral office which he had so ably sustained at Edinburgh. 
He performed the installation services of Mr. Lawson, his 
successor, in a most affecting and impressive manner. Never 
was his discourse more effective than on this occasion. In 
the course of the address he " protested, in the presence 
of Him, before whom he expected soon to appear, that he 
5 



50 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

had walked among them with a good conscience, preaching 
the gospel of Jesus Christ in all sincerity, not studying to 
please men, nor to gratify his own affections.' ' When he 
had finished the services and pronounced the blessing " with 
a cheerful but exhausted voice, he descended from the 
pulpit, and leaning upon his staff crept down the street, 
winch was lined with the audience, who, as if anxious to take 
the last sight of their beloved pastor, followed him until he 
entered his house, from which he never came out again 
alive. 

" On the following Tuesday, the 11th of November, he 
was seized with a severe cough, which greatly affected his 
breathing. It had been his practice every day to read some 
chapters of the Old and New Testament, to which he added 
a certain number of the Psalms of David, the whole of which 
he perused once a month. 

" On Thursday, the 18th, he sickened, and was obliged to 
desist from his course of reading : but he gave directions to 
his wife and to his secretary, that one of them should every 
day read to him, with a distinct voice, the seventeenth chap- 
ter of the gospel according to St. John, the fifty- third of 
Isaiah, and a chapter of the epistle to the Ephesians. This 
was punctually complied with during the whole time of his 
sickness ; and scarcely an hour passed, in which some part 
of the Scripture was not read in his hearing. Besides the 
above passages, he at different times fixed on certain Psalms, 
and some of Calvin's French sermons on the Ephesians. 
Sometimes when they were engaged in reading, thinking 
him to be asleep, they asked him if he heard them ; to which 
he answered, ' I hear, (I praise God,) and understand far 
better,' which words he uttered for the last time only four 
hours before his death. 

" He was very anxious to meet once more with the session 



JOHN KNOX. 51 

of his church, to leave them his dying charge, and bid them 
a last farewell. In compliance with his wish, his colleague, 
the elders and deacons, with David Lindsey, one of the min- 
isters of Leith, assembled in his room on the 17th instant, 
when he addressed them in the following words, which left a 
deep and lasting impression on the minds of all. 

" ' The day approaches, and is now before the door, for 
which I have frequently and vehemently thirsted, when I 
shall be released from my great labors and innumerable sor- 
rows, and shall be with Christ. And, now, God is my 
witness, whom I have served in the spirit, in the gospel of 
his Son, that I have taught nothing but the true and solid 
doctrine of the gospel of the Son of God, and have had it 
for my only object, to instruct the ignorant, to confirm the 
faithful, to comfort the weak, the fearful, and distressed, by 
the promises of grace, to fight against the proud and rebel- 
lious, by the divine threatenings. I know that many have 
frequently complained and still loudly complain of my too 
great severity ; but God knows, that my mind was always 
void of hatred to the persons of those against whom I thun- 
dered the severest judgments. I cannot deny but that I 
felt the greatest abhorrence of the sins in which they in- 
dulged, but I still kept this one thing in view, that if possible, 
I might gain them to the Lord. What led me to utter what- 
ever the Lord put into my mouth, so boldly, without respect 
of persons, was a reverential fear of my God, who called, 
and of his grace, appointed me to be a steward of the divine 
mysteries, and a belief that he will demand an account of my 
discharge of the trust committed to me, when I shall stand 
before his tribunal. I profess, therefore, before God, and 
his holy angels, that I never made merchandize of the sacred 
word of God, never studied to please men, never indulged 
my own private passions, or those of others, but faithfully 



52 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

distributed the talents entrusted to me for the edification of 
the church over which I watched. Whatever obloquy wicked 
men may cast on me respecting this point, I rejoice in the 
testimony of a good conscience. In the meantime, my 
dearest brethren, do you persevere in the eternal truth of 
the gospel ; wait diligently on the flock over which the Lord 
hath set you, and which he redeemed with the blood of his 
only begotten Son. And thou, my dear brother Lawson 7 
fight the good fight, and do the work of the Lord joyfully 
and resolutely. The Lord from on high bless you, and the 
whole church of Edinburgh, against whom, as long as they 
per severe in the word of truth, which they have heard of 
me, the gates of hell shall not prevail.' " 

Thus ended this truly sublime and solemn scene, giving a 
most impressive testimony to the purity and faithfulness of 
this man of God, and to the power and divinity of that 
gospel which he professed and preached. 

On Friday, the 21st, he said, " Come Lord Jesus. Sweet 
Jesus, into thy hands I commend my spirit. Be merciful., 
Lord, to thy church, which thou hast redeemed. Give peace 
to this afflicted commonwealth. Raise up faithful pastors 
who will take the charge of thy church. Grant us, Lord, 
the perfect hatred of sin." He would often address those 
who stood by him in sentences like these : " O serve" the 
Lord in fear, and death shall not be terrible to you. Nay, 
blessed shall death be to those who have felt the power of 
the death of the only begotten Son of God." Awaking from 
a slumber which had been interrupted by heavy groans, and 
being asked the cause of his sighing, he replied, " I have 
formerly during my frail life, sustained many contests and 
assaults of Satan ; but at present, that great lion hath assailed 
me most furiously, and put forth all his strength to devour 
and make an end of me at once. Often before has he 



joiin knox. 53 

placed my sins before my eyes, often tempted me to despair, 
often endeavored to ensnare me by the allurements of the 
world ; but these weapons being broken by the sword of the 
Spirit, the word of God, he could not prevail. Now he has 
attacked me in another way ; the cunning serpent has labored 
to persuade me that I have merited heaven, and eternal bless- 
edness, by the faithful discharge of my ministry. But blessed 
be God, who hath enabled me to beat down and quench this 
fiery dart, by suggesting to me such passages of Scripture as 
these : 6 What hast thou that thou hast not received ? By 
the grace of God, I am what I am. Not I, but the grace of 
God in me ; ' and being vanquished he left me. Wherefore, 
I give thanks to my God, through Jesus Christ, who was 
pleased to give me the victory ; and I am persuaded, that 
the tempter shall not again attack me, but, within a short 
time, I shall, without any great bodily pain or anguish of 
mind, exchange this mortal and miserable life for a blessed 
immortality through Jesus Christ." 

" He then lay quiet for some hours, and at 10 o'clock 
they read the evening prayer, which had been delayed 
beyond the usual time, from an apprehension that he was 
asleep. After it was concluded, Dr. Preston asked him if 
he had heard the prayers : — ' Would to God/ said he, 
' that you, and all men, had heard them as I have heard 
them ; I praise God for that heavenly sound.' 

" About eleven o'clock he gave a deep respiration, and 
said, ' Now it is come.' His friends drew near, and desired 
him to think of those comfortable promises of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, which he had so often declared to others ; and 
perceiving that he was speechless, requested him to give 
them a sign that he heard them and died in peace. On 
this he lifted up one of his hands, and breathing heavily 
5* 



54 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

twice, expired without a struggle, in the sixty-seventh year 
of his age." 

" Ah, yes ! the hour is come 
"When thou must hasten home, 

Pure soul ! to Him who calls. 
The God who gave thee breath 
Walks by the side of death, 

And naught that step appalls." 

W. S. Laxdoe. 



BISHOP HOOPER. 

We have room in this volume to record the glorious death, 
by martyrdom, of but one of the noble victims of the Marian 
persecution. Sublime and impressive as was the death of 
Hooper, the great company of others, ministers and laymen, 
men and women, whose bodies supplied fuel for the flames in 
Smithfiekl, afforded many other equally convincing exhi- 
bitions of the sustaining power of the gospel in hours of trial, 
and in the agonies of a terrible death. 

Hooper was educated in Oxford. He became, while at 
the University, acquainted with the writings of the Reformers, 
and under their influence an earnest desire was awakened to 
become acquainted with the Holy Scriptures. He examined 
them daily, and, by the blessing of the Holy Spirit, became 
experimentally acquainted with the u divine mysteries " of 
the gospel. 

Henry the VIII. had thrown off the papal yoke, because 
the Pope had refused to sanction his adulterous, marriages, 
and several monasteries had been destroyed that their funds 



BISHOP IIOOPEK. 55 

might be poured into his treasury ; but he made himself Pope 
instead of the Roman pontiff, and summarily, and with pain 
of death, demanded conformity to the same religious super- 
stitions and forms as characterized the church of Rome. 

He was one of the most unrelenting persecutors of the 
reformed church, although, in the providence of God, his 
ungoverned will and appetite were made the occasion of 
England's becoming a Protestant nation. 

At the time Hooper was in the University, King Henry 
introduced his six " bloody articles " of faith, so called, 
because nonconformity with these tests was punished with 
death. Hooper was obliged to leave Oxford to save his life, 
and sought refuge in Switzerland, the common sanctuary of 
persecuted Protestantism. Here he applied himself to the 
study of theology and the Hebrew language, forming a profit- 
able acquaintance with the most judicious reformed minis- 
ters. He married, while upon the continent, a Burgundian 
woman, to whom he was most deeply attached. 

Henry the Eighth died, and his young and devotedly 
pious son, Edward, ascended the throne of England, bearing 
upon his head the heartfelt blessings and earnest prayer of 
his grateful people: Hooper resolved to return again to his 
country, amid the tender regrets of his friends in Zurich. 
To their affectionate charge, that when he returned to his 
home, and should be raised, as they supposed he would be, 
to the office of bishop, and be surrounded with honor and 
abundance, he should not forget Zurich, or to correspond 
with his distant friends, he returned thanks for their kindness 
and affection ; pledged himself to be faithful in reciprocal 
letters, and then with prophetic foreboding remarked : " But 
the last news of all I shall not be able to write ; for there," 
said he, taking the hand of his friend Bullinger, " where I 
shall take most pains, shall I be burned to ashes." 



56 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" When Hooper arrived in London, he was soon fully em- 
ployed, and preached twice every day of the week. An 
universal interest was excited by his ministrations ; and such 
vast crowds flocked to hear him, that it was scarcely possible 
to approach the doors of the church. He was unquestion- 
ably one of the most popular and useful preachers of the 
time at which he lived. And, as his course commenced, so 
it continued to the end of life. He was not broken by labor, 
not changed by promotion, not corrupted by affluence. His 
life was so pure and benevolent that slander, with all her 
artifices and efforts, could not fasten any charge upon him. 
With a firm and healthy frame, and a prompt and vigorous 
mind, he possessed an invincible spirit of patience, which 
enabled him, unmoved, to sustain the severest strokes of 
adversity. He had a sound judgment and a good conscience ; 
was sparing in his diet and his words, but still more sparing 
of his time." 

He was called to preach at court, and by the desire of 
King Edward, was made bishop of Gloucester. " Having 
entered upon his Episcopal charge, he was most active and 
examplary in fulfilling the various and momentous duties 
which devolved upon him. He neither spared the vices of 
the rich, nor neglected the wants of the poor. By preach- 
ing, visiting schools, enforcing rules of discipline, extending 
and promoting the means of religious instruction, and above 
all by his example, this truly primitive and pious bishop 
greatly improved the morals of the diocese over which he 
presided." 

Two years this blessed state of things existed, when it 
pleased God to take this pious young King to himself, amid 
the sighs of his own people and all the Protestant world. 
Hooper was well aware, when Mary, a bigoted Romanist, 
ascended the throne, what dangers awaited him. Some of 



BISHOP HOOPER. 57 

his friends entreated him to flee. But no inducement could 
move him. " Once I fled," said he, " but now because I 
am called to this place and vocation, I am thoroughly re- 
solved to tarry, and live and die with my sheep." 

" March 19, 1554, he was called to appear before the 
Queen's Commissioners, at the head of whom was Gardiner, 
bishop of Winchester. Being asked by the Lord Chancellor, 
whether he was married, (the Romish church, according to 
the apostle's prophecy, forbid their clergy to marry ;) ' Yes, 
my Lord, and will not be unmarried till death unmarry me.' 
This was thought enough to deprive him of his office. One 
called him hypocrite, another beast, and all clamorously 
poured torrents of abuse upon him, without measure or 
mercy." 

He was committed to Fleet Prison, Sept. 1, 1554, among 
the most depraved criminals, and for eighteen months he 
languished without sufficient food or raiment, in this wretched 
place. His narrative of his sufferings at this time, thus 
piously closes : " But I commit my just cause to God, whose 
will be done, whether it be by life or death." 

In June, 1555, he was again brought before the Commis- 
sioners, and pressed to renounce the doctrines he had taught, 
and to return to the Catholic church ; but imprisonment had 
not weakened his constancy. " On the 28th of the same 
month, he was brought again before these inquisitorial judges, 
and after much disputation was put aside till Mr. Rogers was 
likewise examined. The examinations being closed, the two 
sheriffs of London, about four o'clock, were commanded to 
carry them to the Counter, in Southwark, there to remain 
for the night, to see if they would relent and come again into 
the holy Catholic church. Hooper went before, with one of 
the sheriffs, and Rogers followed after with the other ; and 
being out of the church, Hooper looked back and stayed a 



58 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

little, till Rogers came near, to whom he said, 6 Come, brother 
Rogers, must we two take this matter first in hand, and begin 
to try these faggots ? ' i Yes, sir,' said Mr. Rogers, ' by 
God's grace.' ' Doubt not,' said Hooper, ' but God will 
give strength.' It was with difficulty they passed through 
the streets, filled with people, who beheld them with mingled 
emotions of pity and admiration. On their way the sheriff 
said to Hooper, ' I wonder you were so hasty and quick with 
my Lord Chancellor, and did not use more patience.' He 
replied, ' I was nothing at all impatient, although I was 
earnest in my Master's cause ; and it standeth me so in 
hand, for it goeth upon life and death ; not the life and 
death of this world only, but also of the world to come.' 
Then were they committed to the keeper of the Counter, and 
appointed to separate chambers, with an order not to be 
allowed to speak with each other, or have any intercourse 
with friends. The next day, January 29th, Winchester and 
his colleagues made a last effort to make the prisoners recant ; 
but this failing, they were degraded, condemned, and deliv- 
ered to the secular power. 

" As Hooper was removed, under the veil of darkness, to 
Newgate, the citizens having received some previous intima- 
tions of his coming, went forth to their doors to salute him, 
praising God for his constancy in the true doctrine, which he 
had taught them, and desiring that God might strengthen 
him to endure to the end." He remained a close prisoner 
in Newgate for six days. 

" On Monday, February 4, the keeper gave him an inti- 
mation that he would have to suffer at Gloucester, at which 
he greatly rejoiced, lifting up his eyes and hands to heaven, 
and praising God that he should die among the people whom 
it had been his duty and delight to instruct in the Christian 
faith ; not doubting but that the Lord would give him 



BISHOP HOOPER. 59 

strength to maintain his cause, and show forth his glory." 
" The following day, about four in the morning, the keeper 
with his attendants, searched him, and the bed in which he 
lay, to see if they could find any papers ; and then he was 
led by the sheriff to a place near St. Dunstan's church, where 
six of the Queen's guard were to take him in charge, and 
convey him to Gloucester. He breakfasted with them very 
liberally at the Angel Inn, and, without help, mounted his 
horse in the most cheerful manner. 

" This good man's sufferings had been long anticipated by 
him ; and we cannot but admire the calm fortitude and 
serenity with which he met the final catastrophe. His mar- 
tyrdom has been justly compared to that of the revered Poly- 
carp, bishop of Smyrna, for he displayed a spirit equally 
free from dastardly timidity and vain- glorious confidence. 
He tried no unlawful, no suspicious means, to elude the 
malice, or to conciliate the favor of his inveterate enemies. 
His letters, and those of his friends, particularly one by 
bishop Ridley, during their confinement, breathe the purest 
charity and devotion. The minor points, on which they had 
once differed, were now sunk into insignificance and for- 
gotten ; while the grand principles, in which they agreed, 
formed ties of union which knit them closer to each other as 
their trial increased. Paul reckoned that the sufferings of 
this present time were not worthy to bo compared with the 
glory to be revealed at the coming of Jesus Christ ; and 
thus John Hooper seems to have calculated with the utmost 
accuracy, and made up his account beforehand, so that every 
item, and every circumstance, was duly adjusted. The last 
struggle was but the issue and result of a process, in which 
reason enlightened, faith unfeigned, and hope rising into full 
assurance, had been conspicuously predominant and manifest. 

" In proof of what is here affirmed, we shall quote the 



60 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

following striking passage from one of his letters while in 
prison : 6 Imprisonment is painful ; but liberty upon evil con- 
ditions is worse. The air of the prison is offensive, yet not 
so much so as the sweet houses where the fear of God is 
wanting. I must be alone and solitary : it is better so to be, 
and have God with me, than to be in company with the 
wicked. Loss of goods is great, but the loss of grace and 
God's favor is greater. I cannot tell hoAV to answer before 
great and learned men ; yet it is better to do that than to 
stand naked before God's tribunal. I shall die by- the hands 
of cruel men. He is blessed that loseth his life, and findeth 
life eternal. There is neither felicity nor adversity in this 
world that is great, if it be weighed with the joys and pains 
of the world to come.' 

" On Tuesday, February 5th, the Queen's guard set out 
from London with their prisoner, and, on Thursday following, 
came to Cirencester, fifteen miles from Gloucester, where 
they dined at the house of a woman who had always hated 
the truth, and grievously calumniated Hooper. This person 
learning the cause of his coming, showed him all possible 
kindness, and lamented his case with tears, confessing that 
she had often asserted, w T ere he put to the trial, he would not 
stand to his doctrine. After dinner he rode forward and 
came to Gloucester, about five in the afternoon ; and as he 
approached the town, a multitude of people assembled to 
meet him. Their cries and lamentations induced one of the 
guards to ride forward, and ask aid of the mayor and sheriff, 
fearing lest he should be rescued from their hands. The 
officers and their retinue repaired to the gate with their 
weapons, but no man showed any symptoms of a disposition 
to use violence in favor of the prisoner. He lodged that 
night in the house of a person called Ingram, eat his meat 
quietly, and slept his first sleep soundly. After his first 



BISHOP HOOPER. 61 

sleep he continued all night in prayer, and in the morning 
desired to go into the next room, that, being alone, he might 
have uninterrupted communion with God. Among other 
persons who came to speak to him, was Sir Anthony Kings- 
ton, who, though he had been his intimate friend, was now, 
by the Queen's letters, appointed to be one of the Commis- 
sioners to see him executed. On seeing Hooper, he burst 
into tears and said, ' I am sorry to see you in this case ; for, 
as I understand, you are come hither to die. But, oh ! 
consider that life is sweet, and death is bitter. Therefore, 
seeing that life may be had, desire to live ; for life hereafter 
may do good.' ' Indeed, it is true, Mr. Kingston, I am 
come hither to end this life, and to suffer here, because I 
will not gainsay the truth that I formerly taught in this 
diocese and elsewhere ; and I thank you for your friendly 
counsel, though it be not so friendly as I could have wished. 
True it is that death is bitter, and life is sweet ; but alas, 
consider that the death to come is more bitter, and the life 
to come is more sweet. Therefore, for the desire and love 
I have to the one, and the terror and fear of the other, I do 
not so much regard this death, nor esteem this life, but have 
settled myself through the strength of the Holy Spirit, 
patiently to pass through the torments and extremities of the 
fire, now prepared for me, rather than to deny the truth of 
his word ; desiring you and others, in the meantime, to com- 
mend me to God's mercy in your prayers.' ' Well, my 
lord, then I perceive there is no remedy, and therefore I 
will take my leave ; and I thank God that ever I knew you, 
for God appointed you to call me, being a lost child ; and by 
your good instruction, though I was an adulterer, and a 
fornicator, God hath brought me to forsake and detest these 
crimes.' ' If you have had grace so to do, I greatly praise 
God for it ; and if you have not, I pray God that vou may 
6 



62 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

have, and that you may continually live in his fear.' After 
these, and many other words, they both poured out a flood 
of tears and parted. 

" A strong and lively faith produces a tone of heroic energy, 
combined with exquisite tenderness, which elevates and 
graces the character of persons in the lowest as well as in 
the highest ranks of life. The same day on which the 
touching interview related above took place, a poor blind boy 
earnestly begged the guards to give him admission to Hooper. 
The child had not long before suffered imprisonment at Glou- 
cester, for confessing the truth. Hooper having examined 
him concerning his faith, and the cause of his confinement, 
looked steadfastly upon him, and the tears gushing from his 
eyes, said, ' Ah ! poor boy ; God hath taken from thee thy 
outward sight — for cause he best knoweth — but he hath 
given thee other sight, much more precious ; he hath en- 
dued thy soul with the eye of knowledge and faith. God 
give thee grace continually to pray to him, that thou lose 
not that sight, for then thou shouldst be blind both in body 
and soul.' The bishop's prayer was granted ; for this poor 
blind boy, whose name was Thomas Drowry, was afterwards 
himself a martyr, being burnt at Gloucester, May 5, 1556. 
On the same day in the evening, Hooper was delivered to 
the sheriff and officers of the city. After thanking them 
for their kindness, and expressing a hope that the instruc- 
tions he had given them, in time past, were not quite for- 
gotten, he said, ' I understand from these good men, my 
friends, (meaning the guard) at whose hands I have found 
as much gentleness and favor by the way hither, as a pris- 
oner could reasonably require, that I am committed to your 
custody, as unto those who must see me brought to-morrow 
to the place of execution. My request, therefore, to you 
shall be, only that there maybe a quick fire, shortly to make 



BISHOP HOOPER. bd 

an end ; and in the meantime I will be as obedient unto you 
as yourselves would wish. If you think I do amiss in any 
thing, hold up your finger and I have done.' 

" The sheriffs were consulting together whether to place 
him for the night in the common jail, but the guards inter- 
ceded for him, declaring that he had behaved himself so 
quietly and patiently in the way, that a child might keep 
him. Upon this, it was agreed that he should lodge in the 
house of Robert Ingram, and some of the officers had charge 
of him. He went to bed early, and after one sound sleep 
spent the rest of the night in prayer. About eight o'clock, 
the commissioners came with their officers in arms. When 
he saw the weapons, he said, ' Master sheriff, I am no 
traitor ; neither needed you to have made such a business to 
bring me to the place where I must suffer : for if you had 
wished me, I would have gone alone to the stake, and 
troubled none of you all.' Afterwards, looking upon the 
multitude, he said to those about him, ' Alas, why are these 
people assembled and come together ? Peradventure, they 
think to hear something from me, as they have in times past, 
but, alas ! speech is denied me. Notwithstanding, the cause 
of my death is well known to them. When I was appointed 
here to be their pastor, I preached unto them true and sin- 
cere doctrine, and that out of the w T ord of God. Because I 
will not account the same to be heresy and untruth, this kind 
of death is prepared for me.' The hour being come, dressed 
in the gown of his host, with his hat on his head, and his 
staff in his hand, he set out with a sheriff on each side. The 
people poured forth bitter tears and lamentations ; but it 
was observed that Hooper never appeared among them with 
a more benignant and cheerful countenance. When he came 
to the place appointed, which was near the great elm tree, 
opposite the college of priests, where he used to preach, he 



64 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

smilingly beheld the stake, and the apparatus prepared for 
his execution. 

" The alternative of ' turn or burn/ to use a customary 
phrase, was then the order of the clay, and consistently sup- 
ported to the last act of the tragedy. 

" At this juncture, a box containing a pardon from the 
Queen, was placed on a stool before him, and offered on con- 
dition that he would recant. Twice he repeated, ' If you 
love my soul, away with it.' Then he offered up the following 
prayer : ' Lord, thou art a gracious God, and merciful Re- 
deemer. Have mercy, therefore, upon me, most miserable 
and wretched offender, according to thy great mercy, and 
according to thy inestimable goodness. Thou art ascended 
into heaven, receive me to partake of thy joys, where thou 
sittest in equal glory with thy Father. For, well knowest 
thou, Lord, wherefore I am come hither to suffer, and why 
the wicked do persecute this thy poor servant ; not for my 
sins and transgressions committed against thee, but because 
I will not allow their wicked doings, to the contaminating of 
thy blood, and to the denial of the knowledge of thy truth. 
And well seest thou, my Lord and God, what terrible pains 
and cruel torments are prepared for thy creatures ; such, 
Lord, as without thy strength, none is able patiently to bear. 
But all things that are impossible with men are possible with 
thee. Therefore, strengthen me of thy goodness, that in the 
fire I break not the rules of patience ; or else assuage the 
terror of the pains, as shall seem most to thy glory.' 

" The prayer being ended, he put off his garments and 
delivered them to the sheriff, and desiring the people to pray 
for him, which many did, with mingled groans and tears, he 
went up to the stake. Here three irons were brought forth, 
designed to fasten him to the stake ; one for his neck, another 
for his middle, and the third for his legs. But he refusing 



BISHOP HOOPER. 65 

them, said, * Ye have no need thus to trouble yourselves ; 
for I doubt not God will give me strength sufficient to abide 
the extremity of the fire without bonds ; notwithstanding, 
suspecting the frailty and weakness of the flesh, but having 
assured confidence in God's strength, I am content to do as 
ye shall think good.' 

" Having fastened the hoop round his body, he refused 
those which were to bind his neck and his legs, saying, ' I 
am well assured I shall not trouble you.' The person ap- 
pointed to light the fire earnestly begged his forgiveness. 
6 Thou doest nothing to offend me,' replied Hooper ; ' God 
forgive thee thy sins, and do thine office, I pray thee.' The 
fire was then kindled ; but as most of the fagots were green, 
he endured the most lingering torments, and it was about 
three quarters of an hour before life and motion entirely 
ceased. The surrounding spectators were deeply affected. 
Nothing was to be seen and heard but weeping, and sighs, 
and loud expressions of grief. The martyr, in the midst of 
the flames, with an audible, but not strong voice, cried, 
' Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me, and receive 
my soul.' These and words of a similar import, were the 
last he was heard to utter." 

Thus in a chariot of fire, triumphantly rode John Hooper 
into the paradise of God. " Among the illustrious worthies 
of that memorable age, there cannot one be pointed out who 
more heroically stood the fiery trial, or more signally exem- 
plified the doctrine for which he even dared to die." 

" Who are these in bright array ? 

This innumerable throng, 
Pound the :\ltar night and day, 

Tuning their triumphant song? 
Worthy is the Lord, once slain, 

Blessing, honor, glory, power, 
Wisdom, riches to obtain ; 

New dominion every hour. 

6* 



6Q THE EMINENT DEAD. 

These through fiery trials trod ; 

These from great afflictions came ; 
Now before the throne of God, 

Sealed with his eternal name ; 
Clad in raiment pure and white, 

Victor palms in every hand, 
Through their great Eedeemer's might, 

More than conquerers they stand. 

Hunger, thirst, disease unknown, 

On immortal fruits they feed ; 
Them the Lamb amidst the throne 

Shall to living fountains lead : 
Joy and gladness banish sighs ; 

Perfect love dispels their fears ; 
And, forever from their eyes, 

God shall wipe away their tears." 



BERNARD GILPIN. 

It is rarely that we fall upon so beautiful a character as 
the one forming the subject of this sketch. He was descend 
ed from an ancient and honorable family, and was born in 
Westmoreland, England, in 1517. His mind was precocious, 
and gave early evidence of its future strength and quickness 
of apprehension. His serious manner and religious inclina- 
tion induced his Catholic parents to devote him to the church. 
He pursued his collegiate studies at Oxford, where his pro- 
ficiency excited the observation of his instructors, and where 
all " admired and loved him for the sweetness of his dispo- 
sition, and the unaffected sincerity of his manners." 

Upon the accession of Edward VI. to the throne, Peter 
Martyr, that eminent Protestant minister and professor, was 



BERNARD GILPIN. 67 

invited to Oxford, to lecture upon divinity, and held often 
discussions with the Catholic bishops, in which he evidently 
was too strong for his opponents. Gilpin, enjoying at this 
time a high reputation with the Catholic party, was forcibly 
pushed forward to be their champion against Martyr, and in 
the contest he became, in a measure, convinced of the weak- 
ness of his own, and the strength of the Protestant argu- 
ments. " His ingenuous spirit, and blameless life, so much 
pleased Peter Martyr, that he used to tell his friends, ' It 
was the subject of his daily prayer, that God would at length 
touch the heart of this pious papist with the knowledge of 
true religion.' " This prayer met with an early and abun- 
dant answer. 

As Mr. Gilpin had been very strongly attached to the 
Catholic church, he was exceedingly cautious and deliberate 
in the steps he took in reference to a separation from it. The 
decrees of the council of Trent, published about this time, 
led to his final decision. This council, called by the voice of 
the church, to purge away the enormous evils that had crept 
into her communion, and to settle the articles of faith, the 
Pope had postponed as long as was possible, and when it did 
come together, he, with great art, managed it to suit his own 
purposes. " Instead of repairing what was decayed, the 
only care was to prop the old ruin as it stood. But among 
all the measures there taken in support of ecclesiastical 
tyranny, the complctest was a bold decree, that the traditions 
of the church should be esteemed of equal authority with the 
Scriptures themselves." The more intelligent and pious 
Catholics received this decree with astonishment. Gilpin 
could no longer waver in his decision, but preferring his 
Bible to an arrogant and blinded church, he deliberately 
gave himself, with all his influence, to a more Scriptural 
communion. 



68 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

He remained until his thirty- fifth year in Oxford, carefully 
studying the reformed faith, and the Holy Scriptures, by 
which he was made ' wise unto salvation.' At this age, with 
the deepest sense of his responsibilities, he was persuaded by 
his friends to accept the vicarage of Norton, in the diocese 
of Durham. 

" Mr. Gilpin entered with great seriousness upon his paro- 
chial charge. But finding himself not sufficiently qualified, 
and having yet some doubts and difficulties on his mind, he 
thought he had been too hasty in quitting his studies. Pressed 
with these feelings from day to day, he resolved, with the 
concurrence of Tonstal, his uncle, bishop of Durham, to 
spend some time on the continent. But too conscientious to 
think of subsisting upon a sinecure, he gave up his living. 
Tonstal reproved his nephew's scruples, saying, ' Your 
friends are endeavoring to provide for you, and you are 
taking every effort to frustrate their endeavors. But be 
warned : by these courses, depend upon it, you will bring 
yourself presently, to a morsel of bread.' Mr. Gilpin begged 
his uncle to attribute what he had done to a scrupulous con- 
science. ' Conscience ! ' replied the bishop, ' why you might 
have had a dispensation ! ' ' Will any dispensation,' an- 
swered Mr. Gilpin, 6 restrain the tempter from endeavoring, 
in my absence, to corrupt the people committed to my care ? ' 
Alas ! I fear it would be but an ill excuse for the harm done 
my flock, if I should say when God shall call me to an ac- 
count of my stewardship, that I was absent by dispensa- 
tion!'" 

He spent three years upon the continent, enjoying the 
company of the most learned Protestants, having access to the 
best libraries, and obtaining the most satisfactory solution of 
his doubts. While he was absent another characteristic in- 
cident occurred. " Tonstal having in his diocese a living 



BERNARD GILPIN. 69 

of considerable value become vacant, he entreated his 
nephew, with much importunity, to accept it. In a letter, 
however, written in reply, while he expresses the warmest 
gratitude for the offered favor, he gives solid and unanswer- 
able reasons for choosing to decline it. c Which of our 
modern rooks,' exclaims bishop Carleton, < could endeavor 
with more industry, to obtain a benefice, than this man 
did to avoid one! ' " 

He returned to England during the Marian persecution, 
but his uncle, " one of the mildest and most humane men 
of the popish party," gave his nephew the arch-deaconcy of 
Durham, with the rectory of Easington. The preaching of 
Mr. Gilpin soon raised against him the clamor of the Catholic 
party. " After I entered upon the parsonage of Easington," 
says Mr. Gilpin in a letter to his brother, " and began to 
preach, I soon procured me many mighty and grievous ad- 
versaries, for that I preached against pluralities, and non- 
residence. Some said all that preached that doctrine became 
heretics soon after. Others found great fault, for that I 
preached repentance and salvation by Christ, and did not 
make whole sermons, as they said, about purgatory, holy 
water, images, prayers to saints, and such like." 

He was forced to resign his rectory, but this did not 
satisfy his enemies. Knowing they could not obtain his con- 
demnation at the hands of his relative, the bishop of Dur- 
ham, they drew up a paper of charges against him, and sent 
it to the blood-thirsty Bonner, bishop of London. " This 
bigot at once took fire, extolled their laudable concern for 
religion, and promised that the heretic should be at the stake 
in a fortnight. 

" Mr. Gilpin's friends in London trembled for his safety, 
and instantly sent to inform him that he had not a moment 
to lose. He received the account with great composure, and 



70 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

called up William Airay, a favorite domestic, who had long 
served him as his steward, and laying his hand upon his 
shoulder, ' At length,' said he, ' they have prevailed against 
me. I am accused to the bishop of London, from whom 
there will be no escaping — God forgive their malice, and 
grant me strength to undergo the trial.' He then ordered 
his servant to provide a long garment for him, in which he 
might go decently to the stake, and desired it might be made 
ready with all expedition : ' For I know not,' said he, ' how 
soon I may have occasion for it.' 

" His friends, in the meantime, failed not to interpose ; 
earnestly beseeching him, while he had opportunity, to pro- 
vide for his safety. But he begged them not to press him 
longer on the subject : should he even attempt it, he said, 
he hardly believed it would be in his power to escape : for 
he questioned not that all his motions were very narrowly 
watched. Besides, he would ask, how they could imagine 
that he would prefer the miserable life of an exile to the 
joyful death of a martyr ? ' Be assured,' says he, ' I should 
never have voluntarily thrown myself into the hands of my 
enemies ; but I am fully determined to persevere in doing 
my duty, and shall take no measures to avoid them.' 

" In a few days the messengers apprehended him, and 
put an end to these solicitations. 

" On his way to London, it is said, he broke his leg, which 
for some time put a stop to his journey. The person in whose 
custody he was, took occasion thence tauntingly to repeat 
an observation he had frequently made — ' That nothing 
happens to us, but what is intended for our good ; ' asking 
him ' whether he thought his broken leg was so intended ? ' 
He answered meekly, ' He made no question but it was.' And 
indeed so it proved in the strictest sense ; for before he was 
able to travel, Queen Mary died, and he was set at liberty." 



BERNARD GILPIN. 71 

Thus providentially rescued from his enemies, Mr. Gilpin 
returned to Houghton (where he had been made rector after 
leaving Easington,) crowds of his people gathering around 
him, and expressing the utmost joy and gratitude to God for 
his deliverance. 

With the accession of Queen Elizabeth to the throne, the 
reformed party in England became in the ascendant, and 
many changes in the ministry occurred. Gilpin, as a scholar 
and a Christian pastor, had few equals, and his friends, 
without his knowledge, succeeded in securing his election to 
the bishoprick of Carlisle, but he would not for a moment 
submit to their entreaties that he should accept the office. 
" Perhaps no man ever evinced a more noble superiority to 
the preferments which tempt ambition, or lure avarice. 
.When Tonstal had before offered him a stall in the cathedral 
of Durham, in addition to his living, stating the pecuniary 
advantage he would derive from it, he declined it, saying, * I 
have more wealth now than I fear I can give a good account 
of.' A sense of duty, not a desire of distinction or profit, 
was the grand motive which actuated him." 

Mr. Gilpin found his parish at Houghton in a most de- 
plorable state of ignorance and irregularity. From an Epis- 
copal injunction in 1570, it appears that in the northern 
counties of England, many of the parish clerks were unable 
to read, " that pedlars were in the habit of selling their 
wares in the church porch, and morrice-danccrs and buffoons 
of playing their unseemly parts in the church during divine 
service." 

The devoted Gilpin set himself to the reformation of these 
crying abuses, and of the morals of his charge. His first 
object was to gain the affections of the people, and in this he 
soon happily succeeded. " His behavior was free without 
familiarity, and insinuating without art ; he condescended to 



72 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the weak, bore with the passionate, complied with the cred- 
ulous, and in a truly apostolic manner, ' became all things 
to all men.' By these means he gained mightily upon his 
neighbors, and convinced them how heartily he was their 
friend. To his winning courtesy, he added great diligence 
in the duties of his function. He reformed the vicious, en- 
couraged the well-disposed, and paid particular attention to 
the rising generation. He was very assiduous to prevent 
law-suits among his parishoners. His hall was often crowded 
with people who came to him with their differences. He 
was not indeed much acquainted with law, but he could 
decide equitably, and that satisfied ; nor could his sovereign's 
commission have given him more weight than his character 
gave him." He was peculiarly tender of the afflicted, being 
ever considered an angel of mercy in all scenes of distress 
and sickness ; and when age and infirmity made it more dif- 
ficult for him to move from place to place, it was his custom 
to write letters of condolence and counsel to the afflicted. 

Not satisfied with the bounds of his own parish, many of 
the adjoining counties being almost totally destitute of de- 
voted clergymen, or under the charge of careless non-resi- 
dents, whose only interest was in the income of the parish, 
he was accustomed every year regularly to pass over these 
neglected fields, and preach in simple but effective discourses, 
to the multitudes that gathered around him. " Wherever he 
came he also visited the jails and prisons, and by his solemn 
admonitions and kind counsels, is said to have reformed many 
very abandoned persons in these places. There is a tract 
of country upon the borders of Northumberland, called 
Read's-dale and Pine-dale — of all barbarous places in the 
north, at that time the most barbarous. Both these dales, 
according to Camden, were inhabited by a kind of desperate 
banditti and thieves. In this dreadful country, where no 



BERNARD GILPIN. 78 

man would even travel if he could help it, Mr. Gilpin never 
failed to spend some part of every year. He chose the 
season when the people could be most easily assembled ; had 
set places for preaching, which were as regularly attended 
as the assize towns of a circuit. If he came where there 
was a church, he made use of it ; if not, of barns, or any 
other large building, where great crowds were sure to attend 
him, some for his instructions and others for his charity. The 
privations and hardships which this indefatigable itinerant 
had to endure in travelling over the bad roads, and cold 
snow-covered mountains of this miserable region, may be 
easily conceived without description. The disinterested 
pains he took among the barbarous people, and the good 
offices he was always ready to do them, drew from them the 
sincerest expressions of gratitude. Indeed, he was little 
less than adored, and might have brought the whole country 
almost to what he pleased. How greatly his name was revered 
among them one instance will show. 

" By the carelessness of his servant, his horses were one 
day stolen. The news was quickly propagated, and every 
one expressed the highest indignation at the fact. The thief 
was rejoicing over his prize, when by the report of the country, 
he found whose horses he had taken. Terrified at what he 
had done, he instantly came trembling back, confessed the 
fact, returned the horses, and declared he believed the 
devil would have seized him directly had he carried them off, 
knowing them to have been Mr. Gilpin's." 

His charities were only limited by his ability to bestow. 
He maintained at his own expense a grammar school in his 
parish, and supported six or seven poor scholars in the Uni- 
versity. 

" Every Thursday throughout the year, a very large 
quantity of meat was dressed in his house, wholly for the 
7 



74 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

poor. Twenty-four of the poorest of his neighbors were his 
constant pensioners. Four times in the year a dinner was 
provided for them, when they received from his steward a 
certain portion of corn and a sum of money ; and at Christ- 
mas they had always an ox divided among them. Whenever 
he heard of any in distress, he was sure to relieve them. In 
his walks abroad he would often bring home with him poor 
people, and send them away clothed as well as fed. It was 
one of his greatest pleasures to make up the losses of his 
laborious neighbors, and prevent their sinking under them. 
If a poor man had lost a beast, he would send him another ; 
and if any farmer had a bad year, he would make him an 
abatement in his tithes. Strangers and travellers found a 
welcome at his house, and it was humorously said, ' If a 
horse were turned loose, it would immediately make its way 
to the rector of Houghton's.' " 

Beautiful character ! where, in all the ranks of infidelity 
and unsanctified philosophy, shall we turn for its counterpart ! 
The whole man was laid upon the altar. His time, talents, 
substance, all — were Christ's, and Christ's suffering crea- 
tures'. The life of self and sin had been fully crucified, and 
the life that the holy Gilpin lived, was " by the faith of the 
Son of God " — a faith that " worlced by love, and purified 
the heart." 

" Lord Burleigh, the treasurer of Queen Elizabeth, on his 
return from Scotland, paid a visit to Houghton. Though 
Gilpin had no previous notice of his coming, ho received his 
noble guest with so much true politeness, and treated him, 
and his whole retinue, in so generous a manner, that the treas- 
urer would often afterwards say, he could hardly have ex- 
pected more at Lambeth palace. While Lord Burleigh staid 
at Houghton, he took great pains, by his own, and by the 
observations of his domestics, to acquaint himself with the 



BERNARD GILPIN. 75 

order and regularity with which every thing in that house 
was managed. It contained a very large family, and was, 
besides, continually crowded with persons of all kinds, gen- 
tlemen, scholars, workmen, farmers, and poor people ; yet 
there was never any confusion ; every one was immediately 
carried into proper apartments, and entertained, directed, or 
relieved, as his particular business required. It could not 
but please this wise Lord, who was so well acquainted with 
the effect of order and regularity in the highest sphere, to 
observe them in this humble one. Here, too, he saw true 
simplicity of manners, and every social virtue, regulated by 
exact prudence.' The statesman began to unbend, and he 
could not without an envious eye, compare the unquiet 
scenes of vice and vanity with which he was engaged, with 
the calmness of this amiable retreat. At length, with 
reluctance, he took his leave ; and with all the warmth of 
affection, embracing his much respected friend, he told him 
he had heard great things in his commendation, but he had 
now seen what far exceeded all that he had heard. c If/ 
added he, ' Mr. Gilpin, I can ever be of any service to you 
at court or elsewhere, use me with all freedom, as one you 
may depend on.' When he had mounted Rainton hill, which 
rises about a mile from Houghton, and commands the vale, 
he turned his horse to take one more view of the place ; and, 
having kept his eye fixed upon it for some time, his reverie 
broke out in this exclamation : ' There is the enjoyment of 
life indeed ! Who can blame that man for not accepting a 
bishopric ? What doth he want to make him greater, or 
happier, or more useful to mankind I ' " 

How could the death of such a man be otherwise than 
peaceful. He had not feared to burn ; and the approach of 
death over the peaceful threshold of his dwelling, had no 
terrors for him. He worked until the weary wheels of life 



76 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

stood still, in his Master's vineyard, only surrendering his 
responsible charge when he gave his body into the arms of 
death. The short account of his death compiled, as has been 
the whole sketch of his life, from his biography, by one of his 
descendants, is interesting and affecting in the extreme. 

" About the beginning of February, 1583, he found himself 
so weak, that he was sensible Ms end must be drawing near. 
He told his friends his apprehensions, and spoke of his death 
with that happy composure which usually attends the con- 
clusion of a pious and useful life. He was soon after 
confined to his chamber. A few days before his death he 
ordered himself to be raised in his bed, and sending for sev- 
eral poor people, who had been his pensioners, he exhorted 
them, and prayed that God would remember them after he 
was gone. He next had his scholars called in, reminding 
them of the value of their time, and assuring them, that 
learning might prove useful to them in this life, but that 
piety would be profitable both in this life and in the life to- 
come. He then addressed his servants, and afterwards sent 
for several persons who had not profited by his advices as he 
could have wished ; and upon whom he imagined his dying 
words might have a better effect. His speech began to 
faulter before he finished his exhortations. The remaining 
hours of life he spent in prayer and broken conversation with 
some select friends, mentioning often the consolations of 
Christianity, and declaring that nothing else could bring a 
man peace at last. He died on the 4th of March, 1583 i in 
the sixty-sixth year of his age/' 

" 0, that without a ling'ring groan 
I may the welcome word receive ! 
My body with my charge lay down, 
And cease at once to work and live I 

* Walk with me through the dreadful shade, 
And, certified that thou art mine, 



ANDREW RIVET, D. D. 77 

My spirit, calm and undismayed, 
I shall into thy hands resign. 

No anxious doubts, no guilty gloom, 

Shall damp whom Jesus' presence cheers ; 
My light, my life, my God is come, 

And glory in his face appears ! " 



ANDREW RIVET, D. D. 

This learned and excellent French divine was born at St. 
Mixenta, in Poitou, in the year 1572. He pursued his 
studies at a noted seminary in Rochelle, and continued his 
vigorous pursuit of knowledge at an academical institution in 
the principality of Beam. Having been admitted to the 
degree of Master of Philosophy, he devoted himself to the 
study of divinity. 

In 1595, he was called to be the pastor of a church at 
Thouars, and chaplain of the duke, who took his title from 
that place. For twenty-five years he assiduously discharged 
the duties of his office, in the same church. 

" He was one of the representatives of the Protestant 
churches in Poitou, at different national conventions, which 
were held by royal permission ; and his talents were also 
employed at court in important negotiations on behalf of the 
Protestant body." 

In 1620 he was chosen professor of divinity in the Uni 
versity of Lcyden, and occupied that important post with 
great honor to himself and usefulness to the church. In 
1621, visiting England, he was honored with the degree of 
doctor of divinity by the University of Oxford. 

After his return to Holland, Jhc was chosen preacher to 
7* 



78 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the Prince of Orange, and curator of the Orange College at 
Breda. These offices he filled in a most satisfactory man- 
ner. His pen, also, was busily employed in the preparation 
of Commentaries, Homilies, Meditations, &c, works marked 
by their piety, and which were collected and published in 
three large folio volumes after his decease. 

A full and most interesting account of his last sickness and 
death is given by Mr. Cox, who entitles his narrative " A 
Believer's Triumph over Death." From this extended ac- 
count but short extracts can here be given ; these, however, 
will be sufficient to excite the pious admiration and gratitude 
of every believer, and give the most convincing evidence of 
the heavenly origin and power of the Christian religion. 

" Dr. Rivet possessed a high degree of health till he 
attained a very advanced age, and when walking in his 
garden, just before his last sickness, he gave orders as to 
what he would have done in the dressing of some trees, and 
then added, ' If I live till the spring time, they will afford 
me a very pleasant sight ; but if not, I shall be in a garden 
far more pleasant.' 

u The next day, December 25, he preached, by request, a 
thanksgiving sermon, after the celebration of the Lord's 
Supper, from Psalms 144 : 3 — 6, <"Lord, what is man,' &c. 
This discourse was delivered with great energy, freedom,, 
and feeling. * What is man ? ' said he ; ' nothing but flesh 
obnoxious to putrefaction : a flower that springs up to-day 7 
and to-morrow is cut down ; even a vapor that appeareth 
for a little time, and then vanisheth away, like the breath 
that proceedeth out of my mouth.' The closing expression, 
subjoined to that fine Scripture metaphor here introduced, 
was a very appropriate reference to a circumstance which 
every eye could witness, while the words entered the ear. 
The weather being extremely cold, the preacher's breath 



ANDREW RIVET, D. D. 79 

was so condensed as to form a visible stream issuing from his 
lips, and instantly passing away. 

" Two days after the delivery of this sermon, he was seized 
with the disease which terminated in his dissolution. It was 
an obstinate constipation, which prevented either food or 
medicine from passing through the body. On the second 
day, well understanding the nature of his disorder, he de- 
clared what the event would be. ' Not,' said he, c that I 
would neglect remedies ; that I may please my friends I will 
do whatever is thought meet £o be done, being secure as to 
the issue, which I commit to the Providence of God.' While 
his niece, Mrs. Mouline, was present, he exclaimed, * Great 
God, thou art my Father, thou hast both given me life, and 
a new life. Hitherto, through thy peculiar favor, thou hast 
preserved me sound in body; and my faculties and the 
functions of my mind have not been imparecl ; so that a little 
before I was oppressed with this disease, I found myself as 
apt and ready for my vocation as in the nourishing days of 
my youth. 0, Lord God ! if it be thy will that I should 
attend upon thy service, thou canst assuage my disease in a 
moment ; but if thou hast decreed otherwise, lo ! here is 
thy servant ; thy will be done. This one thing I beg, with 
most inward and ardent desire, that thou wilt make me con- 
formable to thy will. Let not thy good Spirit depart from 
me, that, in this conflict, thy strength may make me a con- 
queror. Accomplish this, Lord, for thine own sake ; and 
seeing thou hast employed me in thy work, grant that I may 
die an honorable death, and such as may be an example unto 
others ; that I may stand fast in that sound doctrine which I 
have taught, and may make a good confession of it before 
witnesses, that thereby thy church may be both instructed 
and edified. ' 

" All the assiduity of friends, and all the skill of the medical 



80 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

faculty, were employed to remove the obstruction, and give 
him relief, but without effect. On Thursday, December 29, 
he addressed those who surrounded him, with the warmest 
affection and ardor, and poured out supplications to the 
Hearer of prayer, which bespoke a heart full of tenderness, 
faith, charity, and zeal. ' It is God,' said he, ' that hath 
wrought the work for me. Shall I allege or plead my own 
righteousness before him ? Far be that from me : if I should 
justify myself, my own mouth would condemn me ; I will 
rather open my sin before him in a most humble confession 
of it, and pray that he will increase in me the grace of true 
repentance ; yea, let him wear out this body with sorrow, it 
matters not, so he give me a broken and a contrite heart, 
which is a sacrifice acceptable unto himself. Pardon, my 
God, pardon the iniquity of thy servant who is devoted to 
thy fear. I refuse not thy discipline, for I know it is neces- 
sary ; only this I earnestly beg, that it may turn to my 
salvation. Let not my trial exceed my strength, lest I sin 
through impatience, and become a scandal to those I should 
edify. 0, never let me break out into a murmuring com- 
plaint ; for how light is this chastisement compared with my 
fault ! What are these temporal pains in comparison of 
those eternal torments from which I am redeemed by him, 
who poured out his soul on the cross for me I For me ! this 
is the language of faith, which makes a particular application 
of general promises.' 

" On Friday, Mrs. Rivet reminded him of sending a mes- 
senger to the Hague, for his son. ' By all means,' said he, 
' that ought to have been done sooner,' and then himself 
gave orders concerning it. On this day, professors in the 
University, ministers, and many other friends visited him. 
Several saluted him in Latin, and he answered them in the 
same language with the greatest promptitude and cheerfulness, 



ANDREW RIVET, D. D. 81 

All appeared astonished and delighted with the touching 
and impressive scene presented to them. After expatiating 
with wonderful freedom upon the glorious truths of Chris- 
tianity, he proceeded, ' Come, see a man who is an example 
of the great mercy of God. What shall I render unto him ? 
All his benefits overwhelm me. He hath so disposed my 
life, that, in my whole course, I have had a healthful body ; 
he hath heaped upon me both temporal and spiritual bless- 
ings ; and now, before I am rendered feeble and morose 
through old age, he comes unto me and prevents me ; he 
both calls me, and causes me willingly to follow at his call ; 
and now that the end of my life is in view, he still affords 
me the perfect use of my reason, that I may praise the holy 
name of God in the land of the living, and instruct my 
neighbors by my example. I have lived long enough, and 
have had leisure to make trial of all things, and to know 
that they are vanity and vexation of spirit. The end of 
this frail life is the beginning of life eternal. happy 
change ! Truly I fear nothing ; Christ, who forsakes me 
not, is gain both in life and death. If he makes heavy my 
bodily pains, yet he increaseth the joy of my soul.' 

" On Monday, January 2d, he added a codicil to his will, 
and wrote two letters ; one of which, addressed to his brother 
in France, is here subjoined : 

" i My Dear Brother : — I now write my last to you with 
a trembling and dying hand. After preaching a sermon on 
Christmas day, in perfect health, it is now eight days since I 
have been afflicted with a stubborn constipation, and the 
expulsive power is wholly extinct in me. Wherefore I am 
determined, by the grace of God, to die with courage and 
constancy. By the obstinate continuance and pains of my 
distemper, I am quite worn out ; and the day of my disso- 



82 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

lutron draws nigh. My niece, Mary Mouline, shall write to 
you an account of my last hours, and of that tranquillity of 
mind which God affords me. I expect the coming of my 
son, to whom I may commit my nephews and affairs ; he 
shall give you an account of all. Farewell, my dearest 
brother ! But keep me in remembrance the residue of thy 
life, who have loved thee and thine with great affection ; love 
mine again, as thou dost ; I pray God to bless thee and all 
thine. Once again, farewell ! ' " 

The benign influence which vital religion has in softening, 
sanctifying, and exalting all the tender intercourse of do- 
mestic life, was finely demonstrated in the example before 
us. When Dr. Rivet's son, long wished for, at length arrived, 
he received him with strong emotions of parental feeling and 
pleasure. His address to his wife and son is peculiarly in- 
teresting ; we have room only for a portion of it. 

" ' Farewell,' said he, ' my dear yoke-fellow ! We have 
lived together in peace for thirty years, and I thank you for 
your help, which hath been a great comfort to me ; for I 
cast all my domestic cares upon you.' Then turning to his 
son, he said, — ' And thou, my son, love and honor this 
dearest companion of my life, the partner of all my joys and 
sorrows, who hath done the duty of a mother to thee ; (this 
lady was Dr. Rivet's second wife, and step mother to his 
oldest children ;) this I desire of thee, and this I command 
thee, as thou expectest a blessing from God upon what I 
have gained by my labor ; divide it between you without 
contention, according to what is just and right ; manage thy 
affairs with all lenity and Christian prudence ; especially 
pursue peace; 0- Frederick, be rich in peace!' Then 
taking hold of both their hands and joining them together, — 
6 Promise me,' says he, ' that you will maintain a holy and 



ANDREW RIVET, D. D. 83 

mutual friendship with each other.' Which, when they had 
both most solemnly done — ' I believe you,' said he, ' for I 
have no cause to doubt of your sincerity ; I know that you 
fear God, and that my best commands will be of great weight 
with you ; even as I pray God to make my blessing effectual 
upon you. ' " 

When all the symptoms of approaching death were upon 
him, he said, " Be not sorry for me. These last hours have 
nothing terrible in them. This body indeed suffers ; but the 
soul is comforted, strengthened, and filled, according to my 
wish. ' The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. His 
rod and his staff shall lead me ' safely through this short 
' valley of the shadow of death.' This little cloud hides not 
from me the light of heaven : it shines in my soul ; Lord, 
thou enlightenest me ; thou warmest me ; thou drawest me 
upward ; and I follow thee willingly. I lift up myself by 
the wings of faith. The more violent my pains are, the 
nearer I draw to the time of my deliverance. My wound, 
my wound smarteth ; but I hold my peace, because thou, 
Lord, didst it. Have mercy on me. Deliver me, Lord. I 
am not impatient ; for I know that God is faithful, and he will 
give the temptation an issue, that so I maybe able to bear it." 

A little after he said, " Have I not said all ? Nothing 
is now to be done but to give up this soul into the hands of 
God. Is it not time, Lord ? My God, let this suffice. 
ever living God, receive my soul ; I resign it into thy 
hands ; for thou hast ransomed me, God of verity. Look 
upon my sorrows and my sufferings, and pardon all my sins. 
Yes, it is done. He hath clone away all mine iniquities : 
shorten, therefore, and abate my pain. Lord, hear my 
prayer ; for it is time." 

Being told that God was near to all that call upon him in 
truth ; he answered, u He is. He dwelleth with me here ; 



84 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

(putting his hand on his breast ; ) he worketh powerfully, 
according to his good pleasure." 

On its being said to him, " Death is swallowed up in 
victory," he added, " Thanks be to God, who giveth us the 
victory, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 

And on his hearing the words, " Whom he did predes- 
tinate, them he also called ; and whom he called, them he 
also justified ; and whom he justified, them he also glori- 
fied :" " Yes," said he, " grace upon grace. what a lively 
chain ! It is a golden chain. There is no more than the 
last link of it to be finished in me. 0, ' let me die the 
death of the righteous,' that I may behold those riches, which 
eye hath not seen ; and which are not entered ' into the 
heart of man.' Thou givest me some taste of them already. 
They are sweet things ; they are refreshings not to be ex- 
pressed." 

To a minister who had prayed with him, he said, " You 
have helped me. While you were calling upon God, I found 
my infirmity eased. Encourage me still. I have but a 
short race to run. I almost touch the goal. I advance. I 
get new strength. I touch the prize, and lay hold on eternal 
life. This body decays : but I have in heaven ' an eternal 
house, which is not made with hands ; an incorruptible inher- 
itance, which cannot be defiled nor fade away, reserved for 
me in heaven.' " 

" He would often cry out, ' Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly;' and yet check himself, lest he should grow im- 
patient. 

" ' You see,' he would say, ' through the grace of God, I 
am not tired ; I wait, I believe, I persevere. Patience is 
much better than knowledge ; though it delay my joy, yet it 
sets me in the way toward it. The sense of divine favor 
increaseth in me every moment ; my pains are tolerable, but 



85 

my joy is inestimable ; I am no more vexed with earthly 
cares : I have now no desires but after heavenly things. I 
remember when any new book came out, how earnestly I 
longed after it, till it came to my hands, being always de- 
sirous of learning something new. But now all that, is only 
as dust. Thou art my all, Lord ! My good is to approach 
unto thee. what a library have I in God ! in whom are 
hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge ! I shall no 
more behold things afar off and darkly ; I shall no more know 
in part, but I shall be filled with the knowledge of God, as 
the sea is covered with waters. Thou, Lord, art the teacher 
of Spirits. I have learned more divinity in these ten days 
that thou hast come to visit me, than I did in fifty years 
before.' 

" Hearing the clock strike, he asked what hour it was, 
and being informed, he said, — .' The time passeth away, and 
we pass away with the time ; howbeit, we are confirmed and 
strengthened by the grace of God every hour.' Then 
smiting his breast, he exclaimed, ' There is joy within, by 
the habitation of the Spirit of God in me. good God ! 
who am I, that thou shouldst vouchsafe to come and dwell 
under my poor roof ! So it hath pleased thee, Lord, that 
thy Spirit should dwell in me to the end ; and therefore I 
have cause of rejoicing in earnest.' 

"January 7, at three o'clock in the morning, his wife 
came near his bed, and beholding in his countenance the 
image of death, she cheerfully said, — ' Farewell, my dear ! 
go rejoicing into eternal life ! ' < Thou sayest true,' he re- 
plied, 'I go unto my God, and your God: we- are all 
gainers : Amen ! Amen ! Farewell, my dear son ! Farewell, 
my dear niece ! Fear not, I have prayed for you ; you shall 
be happy. Persevere to the end, that none take away your 
crown. I go before you, and you shall follow me ; you have 
8 



bb THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ro cause to doubt of it. We shall be caught up together to 
rac j et the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the 
Loxd. I have no more to say or do. I am ready, I am pre- 
pared ; come Lord Jesus, come! receive thy creature; I 
aspke, I hope, I knock at the gate ; open, Lord, open 
unto thy poor servant! ' " 

Afterwards, a change being observed in his face, his niece 
asked him whether he could yet understand ? "0 yes," 
said he, " speak." 

" Are you not very joyful ? " said his niece. 

" Yes, there is a fast assurance in me." 

On his son saying, " Fear nothing ; for he that belie veth 
in Christ Jesus shall not perish : " he added, " But have 
life everlasting." His son, praying with him, besought God 
to send him (his father) the spirit of comfort. The father 
answered, " He is come." 

His son further prayed that he might take the shield of 
faith, and all the armor of God. The father answered, 

" I have them ; I have fought the good fight," &c. 

His son farther prayed — " Lord, give wings to thy 
servant. Open to him thy Paradise. Let him behold thy 
face." 

The father added, " With the souls of the righteous sanc- 
tified." 

His son farther prayed — "Let him receive the white 
stone, the hidden manna, and bear a part in that song which 
no one understandeth, but he that singe th it." The father 
added, " So be it — Amen." 

A while after, one of those who attended him, saying, " I 
believe at this instant he enjoys the vision of God," he made 
an effort to speak, and said, " Yes." 

"Thus breathing, longing for the beatific vision of his 
God and Saviour, he launched away from these mortal shores, 



GEORGE HERBERT. 87 

to enter the haven of eternal rest. He died January 7th, 
1651, in the seventy-ninth year of his age." 

"Well may Mr. Thornton, in his sketch of this holy man, 
remark as he closes it — " We have here one of the most 
glorious triumphs of Christian faith over death, to be found 
on record. We may safely challenge sceptics and infidels 
to point out, in their whole phalanx, one individual under the 
agonies and pains of sinking nature, closing a long and useful 
life with a death so full of peace, of humble resignation, of 
unclouded hope, and ecstatic joy ! In such instances the 
reality and value of genuine religion appears with all the 
force of demonstration, and nothing on earth is calculated to 
make a deeper and more salutary impression." 

" How our hearts burnt within us at the scene ! 
Whence this brave bound o'er limits fixed to man ? 
His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
His final home brings glory to his God ! 
We gaze ; we weep ; mix tears of grief and joy 
Amazement strikes ! devotion bursts to flame ! ■ 
Christians adore ! and infidels believe ! " — Young. 



GEORGE HERBERT. 

Herbert was born April 3d, 1593, at the castle of Mont- 
gomery, in Wales. He was a younger brother of the cele- 
brated Lord Herbert of Cherbury, an interesting account of 
whose life is given in Walton's inimitable sketch of George 
Herbert, from which this biographical notice is chiefly com- 
piled. His father died when he was but four years old, but 
he was blessed with a most excellent, pious and strong- 
minded mother. 



88 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

This noble woman devoted herself to the careful training 
of her children, even removing with her family and residing 
four years with her eldest son in Cambridge, to shelter him 
by her presence, example, prayers and instructions from 
the evil influences that surrounded him. By the sweetness 
of her temper, the liveliness of her wit, and the familiarity 
of her intercourse, she made her home so pleasant that its 
restraints and virtues weighed not heavily upon the buoyant 
spirits of her children. Her intelligence made her society 
coveted by the first intellects of the day, who resided in the 
vicinity of the University; among others, being highly 
esteemed for her worth and piety by the eminent Dr. Donne, 
who at her death, with great feeling and many tears, preached 
her funeral sermon. 

George, for the first twelve years of his life, was educated 
under his mother's eye, by a private tutor. He afterwards 
entered Westminster school, where he exhibited great pro- 
ficiency in the languages, especially in Greek. At this 
school he was noted not less for his piety than for his rapid 
advancement in his studies. 

In 1608, being then fifteen, he entered Trinity college, 
Cambridge, and at the request of his ever watchful mother, 
was taken under the especial care of Dr. Nevil, the master 
of that college. His taste for poetry, afterwards so fully 
and profitably cultivated, began early to develope itself. 
"In the first year of his residence at Cambridge, we find 
him lamenting in a letter to his mother, that so many poems 
of his time were consecrated to Venus, and so few looked 
toward God and heaven ; and declaring that all his poetry 
should be forever devoted to God's glory — a resolution to 
which he strictly adhered." 

He advanced in literary honors, and, in 1619, was chosen 
orator of the University, an honorable position which, on one 



GEORGE HERBERT. 89 

occasion, brought him in contact with King James the first, 
and called forth from the king a high compliment. He was 
a close and diligent student, allowing himself for recreation, 
the practicing of music, of which he was passionately fond. 
" It relieved," he said, " his drooping spirits, composed his 
distracted thoughts, and raised his weary soul so far above 
the earth, that it gave him an earnest of the joys of heaven." 
He still continued to grow in grace as well as in learning, 
and in favor both with God and man; "insomuch," says 
Walton, " that in this morning of that short day of his life, 
he seemed to be marked out for virtue, and to become the 
care of heaven ; for God still kept his soul in so holy a 
frame, that he may and ought to be a pattern to all pos- 
terity." Herbert enjoyed the friendship of the renowned 
Lord Bacon, who so highly valued his judgment, that he 
usually submitted to his revision the works he intended to 
publish, and dedicated to him his translation of some of the 
Psalms of David. 

He had some prospect of perferment at the hand of King 
James, and for a time his ambition for worldly eminence 
was greatly roused. He had many conflicts with himself 
" whether he should pursue his project of worldly greatness, 
or turning his back on all these, enter into holy orders." 
Grace triumphed ; he fully and forever renounced the world 
and its vain pomp, and threw himself, with all his powers, 
into the arms of his Redeemer, to become his willing servant. 
" It hath been formerly judged," said he, as he settled this 
important question, " that the domestic servants of the King 
of heaven should" be of the noblest families on earth; and 
though the iniquity of the times has made the name of cler- 
gyman contemptible, yet I will labor to make it honorable. 
I will consecrate all my learning, and all my poor abilities, 
to advance the glory of that God who gave them, knowing, 
8* 



90 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

that I can never do too much for him that hath done so 
much for me. And I will labor to be like my Saviour, 
making humility lovely in the eyes of all men, and following 
the merciful and meek example of the dear Jesus." In 
1626, he commenced his labors as a pastor with great zeal 
and success, but was forced on account of his health in 1629, 
to remit his preaching, suffering a severe illness of a year's 
duration. 

He exhibited at this time great submission to the will of 
God, often saying in the midst of his sharpest sufferings, 
" Lord, abate my great affliction, or increase my patience ; 
but, Lord, I repine not ; I am dumb before thee, because 
thou doest it." 

Upon his recovery he removed into Wiltshire, and mar- 
ried Miss Danvers, a relative of the Earl of Danby, and a 
person of singular excellence of character. The quaint and 
truthful Walton says of her — " The eternal lover of man- 
kind made them happy in each other's mutual and equal 
affections and compliance ; indeed, so happy that there never 
was any opposition betwixt them, unless it were a contest 
which should most incline to a compliance with the other's 
desires. And though this begot, and continued in them, 
such a mutual love, and joy, and content as was no way de- 
fective ; yet this mutual content, and love, and joy, did re- 
ceive a daily augmentation, by such daily obligingness to each 
other, as still added such new affluences to the former fulness 
of these divine souls as was only improvable in heaven, where 
they now enjoy it." 

He was at this time presented to the rectory of Bemerton, 
near Salisbury, and entered upon the duties of his office. 
On the evening of the day of his induction into the rectory, 
he observed to a friend — "I now look back on my aspiring 
thoughts, and think myself more happy than if I had attained 



GEORGE HERBERT. 91 

what I so ambitiously thirsted after. I can now view the 
court with an impartial eye, and see that it is made up of 
fraud and fallacy, and such empty, imaginary, and painted 
pleasures, as do not satisfy when they are enjoyed : but in 
God, and his service, is fulness of joy and pleasure, and no 
satiety." 

" Mr. Herbert was exemplary, not only in preaching the 
word, but also in visiting and relieving the poor, the aged 
and the sick. A very considerable proportion of his income 
was expended in acts of charity. By a conduct so kind, 
condescending and amiable, he became greatly revered and 
beloved." 

His relaxation in the midst of his severe labors, was music 
and poetry. The critical Coleridge styles his poems " for 
the most part excellent in their kind." His " Temple, or 
Sacred Poems," was not published until after his death, and 
more than twenty thousand copies were sold in a short period. 

We present here one specimen of his smaller poems, 
marked with both the faults and beauties of his style. 

" When God at first made man, 

Having a glass of blessings standing by, 
1 Let us,' said he, ' pour on him all we can 
Let the world's riches which dispersed lie, 
Contract into a span.' 

" So strength first made away ; t 

Then beauty flowed ; then wisdom, honor, pleasure; 
When almost all was out, God made a stay ; 
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, 
Rest, in the bottom lay. 



' For if I should,' said he, 
' Bestow this jewel also, on my creature, 
Ho would adore my gifts instead of me, 
And rest in nature, not the God of nature — 
So both should losers be. 



92 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



i i 



Yet let him keep the rest — 

But keep them, with repining restlessness — 
Let him be rich and weary ; that at least, 

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
May toss him to my breast.' " 

He also wrote several valuable prose works, the best 
known of which, and the most valuable, was entitled, " The 
Priest of the Temple, or the Country Parson's Character." 
It seems to have been a transcript of his daily course. In 
his preface, he says, that, " Being desirious through the 
mercy of God, to please him for whom I am and live, and 
who giveth me my desires and performances ; and consid- 
ering with myself that the way to please him is to feed my 
flock diligently and faithfully, since our Saviour hath made 
that the argument of a pastor's love ; I have resolved to set 
down the form and character of the true pastor, that I may 
have a mark to aim at." A pastor he defines to be — " The 
deputy of Christ, for the reducing of man to the obedience 
of God;" and his duty, he states to be — "To do that 
which Christ did, and after his manner, both for doctrine and 
life." 

This valuable and eminently holy minister was spared to 
the church but a few years. " The symptoms of consump- 
tion appeared, and the disorder made rapid progress, till he 
was obliged to relinquish his beloved work. It was indeed 
with some reluctance that he declined the labors of the 
pulpit, saying, ' That his life could not be better spent than 
in the service of Jesus, his Master, who had done and suf- 
fered so much for him.' 

" About a month before his death, his friend, Mr. Nicholas 
Parrer, hearing of his illness, sent Mr. Duncan from Hunt- 
ingdonshire, to see him and to assure him that he daily 
prayed for his recovery. On his arrival, Herbert, weak and 
faint, desired him to read to him the prayers of the Church 



GEORGE HERBERT. 93 

of England, which he preferred to all others. Mr. Duncan 
used to say, that, at his first view of Mr. Herbert, he saw 
majesty and humility so blended in his looks and behavior, 
as to produce an awful reverence of him. * His discourse,' 
he would observe, ' was so pious, and his deportment so 
gentle and meek, that, after forty years, they remain still 
fresh in my memory.' 

" Mr. Duncan paid a visit of four or five days to Bath, 
and, on his return, found Mr. Herbert much weaker than he 
left him. At parting, Mr. Herbert said, ' Sir, I pray you 
give my brother Farrer an account of the decaying condition 
of my body, and beg him to continue his prayers for me ; 
and let him know that I have considered that God only is 
what he would be ; and that I am, by his grace, becoming 
now so like him, as to be pleased with what pleaseth him ; 
and tell him, that I do not repine, but am pleased with my 
want of health, and that my heart is fixed on that place 
where true joy is only to be found, and that I long to be 
there, and do wait for my appointed change with patience and 
hope.' He added — ' Pray deliver this book to my dear 
brother Farrer. He shall find it a picture of the many spir- 
itual conflicts which have passed between God and my soul, 
before I could subject my will to the will of Jesus, my 
Master, in whose service I have now found perfect freedom. 
Desire him to read it ; and if he thinks it may turn to the 
advantage of any poor dejected soul, let it be made public ; 
if not, let him burn it ; for I and it are less than the least of 
God's mercies.' This book was that which bears the title 
of ' The Temple, or Sacred Poems and Private Ejacula- 
tions.' Of this book Mr. Farrer used to say — t There is in 
it the picture of a divine soul in every page ; and the whole 
book is such a harmony of holy passions, as will enrich the 
world with pleasure and piety.' 



94 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" As Herbert grew weaker, he would say to his wife and 
nieces, < Now I look back on the pleasures of my life past, 
which I have taken in beauty, wit, music, and conversation : 
they are now all passed by me as a dream, or a shadow that 
returns not. They are become dead to me, and I to them. 
I see, that, as my father has done before me, so also shall I 
make my bed in the dark. But I praise God I am prepared 
for it. I praise him that I am not to learn patience, now I 
stand in such need of it, and that I have practiced morti- 
fication, and endeavored to die daily, that I might" not die 
eternally. My hope is that I shall shortly leave this valley 
of tears, and be free from all fever and pain, and, which is 
more happy still, from sin and all the temptations and anxie- 
ties that attend it. This life being past, I shall dwell in the 
New Jerusalem, with men made perfect, where these eyes 
shall see my Master and Saviour, Jesus. But I must die, or 
not come to that happy place. And this is my content, that 
I am daily going toward it.' 

" The Sunday previous to his departure, he rose suddenly 
from his bed, called for one of his musical instruments, and, 
having tuned it, he played and sung a hymn ; and he con- 
tinued to meditate, and pray, and rejoice, to the day of his 
death. On that day he said to Mr. Woodnot, ' My dear 
friend, I am sorry that I have nothing to present to my God 
but sin and misery. But the first is pardoned, and a few 
hours will put a period to the latter ; for I shall soon go 
hence, and be no more seen.' Mr. Woodnot taking occasion 
to remind him of his many acts of devotion and charity, he 
answered — < These be good works if they be sprinkled 
with the blood of Christ, and not otherwise.' His wife, as 
she stood at his bed, with the forementioned friend, and his 
three nieces, observed him to breathe faintly, and with much 
pain, and then to fall into a sudden agony. This greatly 



GEORGE HERBERT. 95 

surprised her, and she inquired with great anxiety, what the 
matter was. He said that he had past a conflict with his 
last enemy, and had overcome him by the merits of his 
Master, Jesus. Then looking up and seeing his wife and 
nieces weeping around him, he begged them to withdraw 
into the next room, and pray every one alone for him, as 
nothing but their grief could render his death uncomfortable. 
They could not reply for their tears, but they complied with 
his request, leaving with him only Mr. Woodnot, and Mr. 
Bostock, his curate. He then directed Mr. Woodnot where 
to find his will, of which he had made him the executor ; and 
having obtained from him a promise to take charge of the 
interests of his wife and nieces, he said, ' I am now ready 
to die.' He then added — ' Lord, forsake me not now that 
my strength faileth me, but grant me mercy for the merits 
of my Jesus ; and now, Lord, now receive my soul.' And 
with these words he breathed forth his soul without any 
apparent struggle." 

" Death, be not proud, though some have called thee 

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ; 

For those whom thou thinkest thou dost overthrow, 
Die not, poor Death ; nor yet canst thou kill me 
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 

Much pleasure, then, from thee, much more must flow : 

And soonest our best men with thee do go, 
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. 
Thou 'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, 

And poppy or charms, can make us sleep as well, 
And better, than thy stroke ; why swellest thou then ? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally ; 

And death shall be no more ; Death ! thou must die." 

John Donne, D. D. 



96 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



RICHARD BAXTER. ' 

Richard Baxter w r as born at Rowton, Shropshire, Eng., 
November 12, 1615. His father not being able to give him a 
liberal education, and his inquisitive and active mind prompt- 
ing him to the most diligent efforts to acquire knowledge, he 
sought assistance from the ministers in the vicinity, and by 
his indefatigable labor made great proficiency in his studies. 
He says of himself in reference to his early training — " As 
to myself, my faults are no disgrace to any University, for I 
was of none ; and have little but what I had out of books, 
and inconsiderable helps of country tutors. Weakness and 
pain helped me to study how to die ; that set me on studying 
how to live ; and that on studying the doctrine from which I 
must fetch my motives and comforts ; and beginning with 
necessities, I proceeded by degrees, and now am going to see 
that which I have lived and studied for." 

His religious experience is thus recounted by himself: — 
" When about fifteen years of age, it pleased God of his 
wonderful mercy, to open my eyes with a clearer insight 
into the concerns and case of my own soul, and to touch my 
heart with a livelier feeling of things spiritual, than ever I 
had found before." While under this concern, a poor man 
in the town lent his father an old torn book, entitled, " Par- 
sons on Resolution." " In reading this book," he observes, 
" it pleased God to awaken my soul, and show me the folly 
of sinning, and the misery of the -wicked, and the inex- 
pressible weight of things eternal, and the necessity of 
resolving on a holy life, more than I was ever acquainted 
with before. The same things which I knew before, came 
now in another manner, with light, and sense, and serious- 
ness, to my heart. About this time it pleased God that a 



RICHARD BAXTER. 97 

poor pedlar came to the door, that had ballads and some 
good books, and my father bought of him Dr. Sibb's ' Bruised 
Reed.' This also I read, and found it suited to my taste, 
and seasonably sent me ; which opened more the love of 
God to me, and gave me a livelier apprehension of the 
mystery of redemption, and how much I was beholden to 
Jesus Christ. After this, we had a servant that had a little 
piece of Mr. Perkins' works ' Of Repentance,' and the right 
c Art of Living and Dying Well,' and the 6 Government of 
the Tongue ; ' and the reading of that did further inform me 
and confirm me. And thus without any means but books, 
was God pleased to resolve me for himself." 

This is a significant and instructive fact, showing of what 
inestimable value a religious volume or tract may become, 
under the blessing of God. How careful ought parents to be 
in watching over the reading of their children, and in placing 
before them such volumes as may tend to lead their young 
minds to Christ. The field of the pedlar colporteur and his 
volumes, is now abundantly cultivated by the various religious 
Tract Societies and their agents. 

As has been remarked, the early education of Baxter was 
irregularly conducted. He however overcame all the diffi- 
culties of his situation, and in due time was qualified to enter 
the ministry. " He* was persuaded, however, not to enter 
college, but to pursue his studies under the direction of Mr. 
Wickshead, chaplain to the council at Ludlow Castle. Being 
his only pupil, it was expected that, through the undivided 
attention of his tutor, his proficiency would be greater than 
either at Cambridge or Oxford. The preceptor became 
much attached to the pupil ; but being in earnest quest of 
place and preferment, he neglected his charge. He allowed 
him books and time enough, but never seriously attempted 

* Sketch by Dr. Humphrey. 

9 



98 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

to instruct and improve his mind. Nor was this the only 
disadvantage attending his residence at Ludlow ; for he was 
thrown into gay and fashionable society, and was exposed to 
the various temptations incident to such a situation ; by the 
grace of God, however, he was enabled to resist all these 
solicitations to lead him astray." He returned to the country 
again and entered more zealously upon his theological studies. 
" But his constitution being of a feeble texture, and his 
health greatly impaired, he began to apprehend that his 
mortal race was drawing to a close. With the solemn views 
and feelings of a dying man, he for some time lived as on 
the brink of eternity. His conscience was thoroughly awak- 
ened, his heart deeply affected ; the treasures and tumults, 
honors and delights of this transient world, lost their charms 
and attractions ; while he pensively considered and antici- 
pated the grand realities of the world to come. In this 
frame of mind he both searched the Bible, and perused the 
most impressive productions of the Puritan divines, and 
attained at this early age to no mean degree of Christian 
experience. Continuing about two years in this state, 
though he believed his stay in the world would be very short, 
he was desirous of doing all the good possible, and therefore 
was ordained by the bishop of Worcester, and preached with 
much acceptance to a numerous auditory at Dudley. Thence, 
after nine months, he went to Bridgeworth, and became assist- 
ant to Mr. Madstard. By an agreement between the vicar 
of Kidderminster and fourteen trustees in his parish, Mr. 
Baxter was invited to become preacher in that town, and 
was to have sixty pounds per annum. He accepted this 
invitation, though he had no previous wish to settle there. 
Indeed he has remarked, that in all the changes through 
which he passed, he never went to any place which he had 
before thought of or desired. 



RICHARD BAXTER. 99 

" Upon entering this new field of labor, he found much to 
discourage his first efforts. It was like a tract of ground 
full of thorns and thistles, and every kind of noxious weeds ; 
ignorance, profaneness, and vice, in various forms, had 
spread with rank luxuriance. Never did any spiritual 
laborer in the Lord's vineyard apply himself with more 
energy and skill to the arduous work of his holy calling, than 
the newly elected preacher at Kidderminster. Like the 
great apostle of the Gentiles, he taught the people, both pub- 
licly, and from house to house. His vigilance and fidelity 
in detecting and reproving sin, his charity and condescen- 
sion toward the sick and afflicted, the wisdom of his counsels, 
the warmth of his zeal, and the depth of his pathos and ten- 
derness, accompanied with remarkable gravity and sanctity 
of deportment, rendered him a perfect contrast to the profli- 
gates who had filled and degraded the same office before 
him. His ' Gildas Salvianus,' and ' Reformed Pastor,' 
exemplify his own practice, and supply a model worthy 
of imitation. Nor were his faithful labors lost. The wilder- 
ness became as the garden of the Lord. A very uncommon 
measure of divine influence attended his ministrations. 
When he went to Kidderminster, there was scarcely a house 
in a street which had family worship ; when he left, there 
was scarcely one where it was not established ; and a 
stranger walking through the town on the Sabbath evening, 
heard every where the solemn voice of supplication and 
prayer, or the cheering melody of joy and praise. Preju- 
dice and rage, in the beginning, opposed him ; but a general 
reformation took place ; and sobriety, order, and devotion 
succeeded to riot, strife, and profanity. When the civil war 
broke out, Baxter retired to Coventry, and during two years 
preached one part of the day to the garrison, and the other 
to the inhabitants. Here he enjoyed the society of about 



100 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

thirty ministers who had fled to the same place for safety. 
For some time he was chaplain to colonel Whalley's regi- 
ment ; he reproved many of the measures of the army, and 
by his great freedom displeased Oliver Cromwell. When 
King Charles II. was restored, Baxter was made one of his 
chaplains in ordinary, and preached once before him in that 
capacity. He often waited on his majesty, with the rest of 
the ministers, in order to obtain terms ; assisted at the Savoy 
Conference, as one of the commissioners, and drew rip a 
reformed liturgy, wTiich some, not much prejudiced in his 
favor, have highly commended. He was offered the bish- 
opric of Hereford by Clarendon, the chancellor ; but in a 
respectful letter, containing his reasons, declined the offer. 
He wished no higher preferment than liberty to continue his 
ministry at Kidderminster, a town where he was so much 
beloved, but could not obtain it. 

u Upon the act of uniformity being passed in 1662, Baxter 
was one of the two thousand ministers who were separated 
from the established church. He resided some time at 
Acton, and preached statedly or occasionally in different 
places, as often as opportunity offered. The severe law 
against conventicles prohibited dissenters from preaching, or 
performing any acts of public worship. Few of the oppressed 
nonconformists escaped the scourge of persecution, but Bax- 
ter felt some of its heaviest strokes. He believed himself 
called by the King of kings to preach the gospel of peace, 
and that no human law could nullify his sacred commission. 
The work of warning the impenitent, and winning souls to 
his Lord and Master, was in his view an imperious duty, and 
in its performance he found his chief delight, the very 
element in which his heart expanded, and caught the flame 
of seraphic ardor. Yet for this crime of preaching the 
divine word, he was hunted by malignant spies and mercenary 



RICHARD BAXTER. * 101 

informers ; warrants were issued to seize his books, his goods, 
and even the bed on which he slept. Nor was this all ; but 
when he was enduring great pain and bodily disorder, he 
was dragged before the inhuman judge Jefferies, loaded with 
every kind of contumely and abuse, and thrown into prison; 
the chief justice declaring on the bench, ' that he was sorry 
the act of indemnity disabled him from hanging him.' Baxter 
continued, under great pain and langor, in a state of con- 
finement for two years, and upon a change of political mea- 
sures, obtained a pardon and release." 

Such is a short outline of the turbulent scenes through 
which this holy man passed, and by which he exercised 
himself in patience and righteousness. In all this commotion 
and persecution he found time to write numerous valuable 
religious works, many of which still remain, shedding their 
heavenly light upon the church, prized both for the excel- 
lence of the matter and the strength and eloquence of the 
style. No human mind can estimate the amount of good 
that has already been accomplished by his two volumes — 
" Call to the Unconverted," and " Saint's Everlasting Rest." 
Thoughtless ministers have been brought to see the fearful 
responsibilities that rested upon them, and have been led to 
a thorough personal experience of the gospel they preached ; 
and laymen almost innumerable, have found their attention 
arrested, their reason carried, their convictions aroused, and 
their hearts turned to penitential cries, by the powerful and 
eloquent reasoning of these volumes. Although laboring as 
few ministers do, in the active and public duties of his min- 
istry, yet his printed works, as enumerated by Dr. Calamy, 
formed "four folios, fifty-eight quartos, forty-six octavos, 
twenty-nine duodecimos, besides pamphlets and prefaces to 
other men's books." His piety was of the deepest and sh- 
eerest order. " He that could refuse a bishopric, with all 
9* 



102 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

its secular honors and profits, might inculcate self-denial and 
abstraction from an evil world, without the least suspicion of 
insincerity. When slandered, fined, and imprisoned, he 
neither murmured nor recriminated, but said to a friend, 
* What could I desire more of God, than after I have served 
him to the utmost of my power, I should now be called to 
suffer for him.' He was tortured with agonizing pain from 
a stone in the bladder, so that for some years he had not 
one waking hour of complete ease ; yet he was wonderfully 
resigned, and often said, amidst his sharpest pains, M have 
a rational patience, and a believing patience, though sense 
would recoil.' He was of a pacific spirit, and prayed and 
labored to unite all who held the essentials of religion in the 
bond of peace. He said once to a friend, ' I could as 
willingly be a martyr for love, as for any article in the 
creed.' " 

His dying hours were marked by all that composure and 
peace that would have been reasonably anticipated as the 
result of such a holy and devoted life. Although suffering 
almost inconceivable bodily agony, his mind was kept in 
perfect peace, and his description of the exulting triumphs 
of a dying saint were fully realized in his own experience. 
" As Moses before he died, went up into Mount Nebo, to 
take a survey of the land of Canaan, so he ascended the mount 
of contemplation, and by faith surveyed his heavenly rest. 
He looked on the delectable mansions, and said, i Glorious 
things are deservedly spoken of thee, thou city of God.' 
He heard as it were the melody of the heavenly choir, and 
said, ' happy the people that are in such a case, yea, happy 
is that people whose God is the Lord.' He looked upon the 
glorious inhabitants, and exclaimed, ' Happy art thou, O 
Israel. Who is like unto thee, people saved of the Lord I * 
He looked on the Lord himself, who is their glory, and was 



RICHARD BAXTER. 103 

ready with the rest to fall down and worship him that liveth 
for ever and ever. He looked on the glorified Saviour, and 
was ready to say Amen to that new song, i Blessing and 
honor and glory and power be unto him that sitteth upon the 
throne, and unto the Lamb.' He looked back on the wilder- 
ness of this world, and blessed the believing, patient, despised 
saints ; he pitied the ignorant, obstinate, miserable world. 
Like ' Daniel in his captivity, he daily opened his window 
towards the Jerusalem that is above, though far out of 
sight.' " 

He continued his interest in the salvation of souls until 
liis strength entirely failed him. " He said to his friends 
that visited him, ' You come hither to learn to die ; I 
can assure you that your whole life, be it ever so long, is 
little enough to prepare for death. Have a care of this vain 
deceitful world, and the lusts of the flesh. Be sure you 
choose God for your portion, heaven for your home, God's 
glory for your end, his word for your rule, and then you 
need never fear but we shall meet with comfort.' Never 
was penitent sinner more humble in debasing himself ; never 
was sincere believer more calm and comfortable. Admiring 
the divine condescension, he often exclaimed — ' Lord, what 
is man ? what am I, a vile worm, to the great God V Often 
he put up the publican's prayer for mercy, and rejoiced that 
it was left on record as an effectual prayer. ' God,' said 
he, ' may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever did, 
and all my hopes are from the mercy of God in Christ.' 
After a short slumber, he waked and said, i I shall rest from 
my labor.' A minister present added, < and your works 
follow you.' To whom he replied, ' No works ; I will leave 
out works if God will grant me the other.' When a friend 
was comforting him with the good many had received from 
his preaching and writings, he said, ' I was but a pen in 



104 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

in God's hand, and what praise is due to a pen ? ' Under 
his excruciating anguish, he was sometimes led earnestly to 
pray for release by death, but would check himself, saying, 
6 It is not fit for me to prescribe : Lord, when thou wilt, 
what thou wilt, and how thou wilt.' Again, amidst fresh 
pangs — ' 0, how unsearchable are his ways, and his paths 
past finding out ! the reaches of his providence we cannot 
fathom ! Do not, my friends, think the worse of religion for 
what I suffer.' Being often asked under these corporeal 
tortures, how it was with his inward man — the immortal 
part ? — he replied, ' I bless God I have a well-grounded 
assurance of my eternal happiness, and great peace and 
comfort within ; ' but added, ; flesh must perish, and we 
must feel the perishing of it ; and though his judgment sub- 
mitted, yet sense would still make him groan.' Being asked 
by a person of quality, whether he had not great joy from 
his believing apprehensions of the invisible state, he replied, 
' What else, think you, Christianity serves for ? The con- 
sideration of the Deity in his glory and greatness was too 
high for our thoughts ; but the consideration of the Son of 
God in our nature, and of the saints in heaven, whom we 
knew and loved, doth much sweeten and familiarize heaven 
to me.' The description of heaven, in Heb. 12 : 22, was 
most comfortable and animating to him. That Scripture, he 
said, deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. At another 
time he said, ' he found great comfort and sweetness in 
repeating the words of the Lord's Prayer, and was sorry 
that some good people were prejudiced against the use of 
it ; for there were all necessary petitions for soul and body 
contained in it.' He gave excellent counsel to young min- 
isters that visited him, and earnestly prayed to God to bless 
their labors, and make them very successful in converting 
many souls to Christ ; and expressed great joy, in hope that 



RICHARD BAXTER. 105 

God would do much good by them, as they were of moderate 
peaceful spirits. He often prayed that God would be mer- 
ciful to this miserable, distracted world, and preserve his 
church and interest in it. He advised his friends to beware 
of self-conceitedness. Being asked, whether he altered his 
mind on controversial points, he said, ' Those who please 
may know my mind in my writings ; and what I have done 
was not for my own reputation, but for the glory of God.' " 

The above expressions are taken from Dr. Bates' interesting 
account of the final hours of this excellent man. He adds : 
" I went to him with a very worthy friend, Mr. Mather, of 
New England, the day before he died ; and speaking some 
comforting words to him, he replied, ' I have pain, there is 
no arguing against sense ; but I have peace, I have peace.' 
I told him, 4 You are now approaching to your long desired 
home.' He answered, ' I believe, I believe.' He expressed 
a great willingness to die ; and during his sickness, when the 
question was asked, how he did ? his usual reply was, ' almost 
well : better than I deserve to be, but; not so well as I hope 
to be.' His joy was the most remarkable when in his own 
apprehension death was nearest." 

" May I," says Dr. Bates, " live the short remainder of 
my life as entirely to the glory of God as he lived ; and, 
when I shall come to the period of it, may I die in the same 
blessed peace wherein he died ; may I be with him in the 
kingdom of light and live for ever." 

Who can gainsay the power of true piety as exhibited in 
the consecrated life and triumphant death of this excellent 
man ? How submissively he tarries in the agonies of the 
flesh, for the hour of his assured deliverance ! No impa- 
tience or moroseness, no distrust of the divine Providence, 
no doubts or fears ; calmly the holy man bows his lips to kiss 
the chastening rod, and then lifts up his ravished gaze upon 



106 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the approaching scenes of everlasting bliss. Has the history 
of our race ever exhibited a parallel to this, out of the number 
of the subjects of the Christian faith? Can infidel philosophy 
exhibit one votary thus triumphing in the embrace of the 
king of terrors ? 

Baxter finished his course December 8, 1691, and his 
funeral was attended by an immense concourse of people of 
all ranks and denominations. 

" And lo the heavenly Jerusalem, with all its gates one pearl, . 
That pearl of countless price, the door by which Ave entered, — 
Come, tread the golden streets, and join that glorious throng, 
The happy ones of heaven and earth, ten thousand times ten thousand 
Hark, they sing that song, and cast their crowns before Him ; 
Their souls alight with Love, — Glory, and Praise, and Immortality ! 
Veil thine eyes : no son of time may see that holy vision, 
And even the seraph at thy side hath covered his face with wings." 

Proverbial Philosophy. 



PHILIP HENRY. 

Philip Henry was born at Whitehall, Westminister, 
August 24, 1631. His father was a servant to Philip, 
Earl of Pembroke, and resided at court. Young Philip 
therefore was sometimes the playmate of Prince Charles, 
and James, duke of York. How much greater and more 
beneficial upon society has been the influence of this humble 
playmate, than that of the noble youth in whose sports he 
was occasionally permitted to join ! The honors and titles, 
and even deeds of the nobles of earth soon perish, but the 
righteous " cease from their labors and their works do follow 
them." 

Henry was blessed with a most excellent and pious mother, 



PHILIP HENRY. 107 

•to whose faithful instructions he owed, in a great measure, his 
early conversion, and his eminence in after life as a minister 
of the gospel. She taught him, from the first dawnings of his 
mind, as Eunice had Timothy in apostolic days, " to read 
and reverence the Scriptures, and to dedicate his earliest 
and best days to the service of God." 

At the age of fourteen his mother died, leaving as her 
dying testimony, this convincing evidence of her happy exit : 
" My head is in heaven, and my heart is in heaven ; it is 
but one step more, and I shall be there too." 

" In his twelfth year he was placed in Westminster school, 
and received instruction under the celebrated Dr. Busby, 
with whom he was a great favorite. This stern grammarian 
was dreaded as the scourge of juvenile sloth or folly : 4 Yet 
I never,' says Mr. Henry, ' felt the weight of his hand but 
once, and then I deserved it.' He seems to have highly 
revered his tutor, and always expressed his great obligations 
to him. At a subsequent period, meeting him, Busby 
asked, ' Child, who made thee a non-conformist ? ' ' You, 
sir,' replied Henry, c for you taught me the principles which 
forbade me to violate my conscience.' " 

He was blessed with the privilege of attending upon the 
services of some of the most impressive preachers of the day, 
and at an early age had the liveliest convictions of sin, of 
righteousness, and the judgment to come. He thus expresses 
his own appreciation of the privileges he enjoyed at this 
period. " If ever any child, such as I then was, between 
the tenth and fifteenth year of my age, enjoyed line upon 
line, and precept upon precept, I did. And was it in vain ? 
I trust not altogether in vain. My soul rejoiceth, and is glad 
at the remembrance of it : the word distilled as the dew, and 
dropped as the rain. I loved it, and loved the messengers 
of it; their very feet were beautiful to me. And, Lord, 



108 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

what a mercy was it, that at a time when the poor country was 
laid waste, when the noise of drums and trumpets, and the 
clattering of arms, was heard there, and the way to Zion 
mourned, that then my lot should be where there was peace 
and quietness, where the voice of the turtle was heard, and 
there was great plenty of gospel opportunities ! 4 Bless the 
Lord, my soul ! as long as I live I will bless the Lord ; I 
will praise my God while I have my being/ Had it been 
only the restraint that it laid upon me, whereby I was kept 
from the common sins of other children and youth, such as 
cursing, swearing, Sabbath breaking, and the like, I were 
bound to be very thankful ; but that it prevailed, through 
grace, effectually to bring me to God, how much am I in- 
debted, and what shall I render ! " 

In 1647 he entered the University at Oxford, and made 
considerable proficiency in his studies. In his diary, how- 
ever, he ingenuously confesses, " that he had wasted much 
of his precious time, and had lost much of the vital power of 
godliness, which occasioned him to write this affecting mem- 
orandum, ' the ardor of my piety soon began to decline.' 
It pleased God, however, by the preaching of Dr. Owen, to 
restore the tone of spirituality to his mind, by what he termed 
a sort of second conversion ; and afterwards, when he visited 
Oxford, he inserted in his book, as no doubt God did in his, 
' A tear dropped over my University sins.' ' How many 
times has this experience been paralleled among pious stu- 
dents ! Peculiar are the temptations attending the scholar's 
life and studies, and especial grace is required to sustain tlie 
" ardor of piety," in the earnest pursuit after knowledge. 
This grace, however, the Redeemer of all souls can abun- 
dantly supply, and the praying and watching student, like 
Martyn, may not only stand firm in his Christian integrity, 
but even make great advances in inward holiness. 



PHILIP HENRY. 109 

" His first settlement in the ministry was at Worthenbury, 
a little town on the banks of the Dee, in Flintshire. Here 
he married Catharine Mathews, the heiress of a good estate, 
at Broad Oak, a woman of excellent character, by whom he 
had two sons and four daughters. With this amiable bosom 
friend and suitable helpmate, he enjoyed the purest and most 
exalted connubial felicity.' ' 

He remained in this parish about eight years, " and very 
rarely have the duties of a wise, faithful, and zealous pastor, 
been performed as they were by him. He was abundant in 
labors, preaching and catechising frequently, warning and 
reclaiming the profligate, visiting and consoling the sick. 
The tenth of his income was regularly set apart for purposes 
of charity ; and he often said, ' He is no fool who parts with 
what he cannot keep, when he shall be recompensed with 
that which he cannot lose ; ' and yet to shut out occasion of 
false confidence, he would subjoin the words of David — 
' Lord, of thine own have we given thee.' Such spirituality 
and devotion reigned in his heart, and governed his conver- 
sation, that he was usually called the heavenly Henry. He 
was always ready to promote unanimity among Christians, 
and lamented greatly the want of it, observing, ' That it is 
not so much the difference of opinion which doth us the mis- 
chief, (for we may as soon expect all the clocks of the town 
to strike together, as to see all good people of a mind in 
syery thing on this side heaven,) but the mismanagement of 
that difference.' 

" One great excellency in this useful pastor, was his tender 
and unremitting attention to the young of his flock. He 
neglected no means to win their affections, to secure their 
best interest, to convince them that the service of God would 
bring true riches, honors, and pleasures with it. And he 
recommended parents to train their children in the ways of 
10 



110 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

God, and animate and encourage them in the beginning of a 
religious life, and persuade them to receive the Lord's Sup- 
per. ' It is true,' he would say, buds and blossoms are not 
fruit, but they give hopes of fruit ; and parents should, and 
may, take hold of the good beginnings of grace in their chil- 
dren, by those to bind them so much the closer to, and lead 
them so much the faster in, the way that is called holy. By 
this solemn engagement, the door that stood half open and 
invited the thief, is shut and bolted against temptation.' " 

Upon the accession of Charles II., Henry not being able 
conscientiously to submit to the " act of uniformity," as it 
was called, was expelled from his charge ; and with many 
of his brethren, was subjected to many privations and suf- 
ferings. When King James granted liberty of conscience, 
Mr. Henry commenced his chosen and beloved work again, 
of preaching the gospel ; not laboring only in a church he 
erected upon his own estate, but travelling about the neigh- 
boring country, " publishing the glad tidings of salvation, 
and spreading from place to place the savor of the knowledge 
of Christ." 

"Although Philip Henry's constitution was but feeble, 
yet, by the blessing of God upon his temperance, and con- 
stant exercise in the open air, he for many years, enjoyed 
a good measure of health, which he used to call ' the sugar 
that sweetens all temporal mercies.' He was sometimes 
violently attacked by the cholic, and at other times hM 
sudden fainting fits, on recovering from which he has been 
heard to say — * I do not desire to live a day longer than I 
may do God some service ; ' and once to a friend, ' Well, I 
thought I had been putting into the habor, but I find I must 
to sea again.' 

" A few months before his death, he wrote, to a relation, 
who inquired, with tender solicitude, concerning his health : 



PHILIP HENRY. Ill 

'I am always habitually weary, and expect no other, till 
I lie down on the bed of spices.' When some of his friends 
entreated him to spare himself, he said — c It is time enough 
to rest when I am in the grave ; what were candles made 
for, but to burn.' 

" On the Lord's day, June 21, 1696, he went through the 
work of the day with his usual vigor and vivacity. He was 
preaching upon 2 Peter 1:5 — * Add to your faith virtue,' 
&c. He took virtue to be courage and resolution in the 
exercise of faith ; and the last thing he mentioned in which 
Christians have need of courage, is in dying. The Tuesday 
following he arose at six o'clock, according to his custom, in 
good health. Before eight he had family worship, and ex- 
pounded part of the 14th Psalm ; and his prayer was some- 
what shorter than usual. He immediately retired to his 
chamber, and casting himself upon his bed, was in the greatest 
extremity of pain. The means used, afforded him no relief. 
He had some times said — i That God's Israel may find 
Jordan rough ; but there is no remedy, they must go through 
it to Canaan ;' and so he found it. ' Those about him,' he 
said, c must remember what instructions and counsels he had 
given them when he was in health, for now he could say but 
little to them.' When Mr. Mathew Henry, his son, arrived 
from Chester, he thus addressed him : * son, you are wel- 
come to a dying father : I am now ready to be offered, and 
Vie time of ivy departure is at hand? His pain continued 
very acute ; and when some of his neighbors came to see 
him he said, — { 0, make sure work for your souls, while 
you arc in health, by getting an interest in Christ ; for if I 
had that work to do now, what would become of me ? But 
I bless God, I am satisfied.' It was a caution he was wont 
to give : — ' See to it, that your work be not undone, when 
your time is done, lest you be undone for ever.' In the 



112 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

night he took a most affectionate farewell of his dear yoke- 
fellow, with a thousand thanks for all her love, and care, and 
tenderness ; left a blessing for all his dear children, their 
wives and little ones. To his son, who sat by him, he said, 
' Son, the Lord bless you, and grant that you may do 
worthily in your generation, and may be more serviceable to 
the church of God than I have been.' His understanding 
and speech continued almost to his last breath, and he was 
still, in his dying agonies, calling upon God, and committing 
himself to him. On the point of expiring, he exclaimed, — 
' death, where is thy sting f ' and then resigned his soul 
into the hands of his Redeemer." 

" Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell 

How high your great Deliverer reigns ; 
Sing how he spoiled the hosts of hell, 

And led the monster death in chains ! 
Say, ' Live for ever, wond'rous King ! 

Born to redeem, and strong to save ! ' 
Then ask the monster, ' Where's thy sting ? * 

And, ' Where's thy victory, boasting grave '? * " 



JOHN JANEWAY. 

The subject of the present sketch, by the grace of God, 
during his short race, was enabled to give one of the most 
triumphant exhibitions of the power of religion to sanctify 
the life and solace the hour of death. 

He was born at Lilley, in Hertfordshire, October 27, 1633. 
In his youth he made rapid progress in his studies, and at 
the age of seventeen, entered King's College, Cambridge. 
"At this period," says his biographer, " he was affable and 
courteous in his manners ; and though exceedingly admired 
and caressed, he betrayed no symptoms of vanity. His 



JOHN JANEWAY. 113 

learning was graced with modesty, and guarded by pru- 
dence ; and he had great command of his passions, by which 
he was preserved from the follies to which youth similarly 
situated, so often fall a prey." 

When eighteen years of age, Baxter's " Saint's Ever- 
lasting Rest " fell into his hands, and was largely instru- 
mental in his conversion to God. " The change speedily 
became manifest to all ; for the ardent pursuit of future hap- 
piness now engaged his whole soul. His great concern was 
to direct his attainments and studies, to promote the glory of 
God, and the eternal welfare of his fellow men. He there- 
fore addressed many letters to his relations and friends, 
which are full of that simple and persuasive eloquence, which 
impassioned zeal, under the guidance of a good under- 
standing, invariably inspires. His father, a minister of the 
Word, was during his last illness, oppressed with much 
anxiety, through doubts of his personal interest in the prom- 
ises of that gospel which he had preached to others. To his 
parents, under a dark cloud, this affectionate son sent a long 
epistle, replete with the wisest counsels and the richest con- 
solations." As affecting a fact, is this, as can well be imag- 
ined — the pious boy administering heavenly consolation to 
the dying father and minister. After recommending several 
sources for the removal of his melancholy and unbelief, he 
writes — " But there is one duty, which, if properly observed, 
would dispel all. This is the heavenly contemplation of 
those things to which the Christian religion tends. If we 
walk closely with God in this duty only one hour in the day, 
oh, w r hat influence would it have on the whole day, and, if 
duly performed, upon the whole life. I knew the nature and 
usefulness of this duty, in some measure, before, but had it 
more deeply impressed upon me by Mr. Baxter's ' Saint's 
Rest,' for which I have cause for ever to bless God." 
10* 



114 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

At the age of twenty-one, he was elected to a fellowship 
in his college. While pursuing his studies he continued a 
most lively interest in behalf of the-religious well-being of his 
brothers. He addressed them serious and pathetic letters, 
and sought every opportunity for speaking to them individ- 
ually, in private, exhorting each of them with prayers and 
many tears. These labors were crowned with success, and 
he had the satisfaction of knowing that his instructions 
had been the sanctified agencies in securing the conviction 
and conversion of several of the members of his family. He 
witnessed a striking answer to his prayers in the case of his 
father. He expired free from fears and perturbations, in 
the full assurance of faith and hope, exulting in the clear 
views and foretastes of immortal bliss which he enjoyed. 

" He continued at King's College, till he was invited to 
become domestic tutor to the children of Dr. Cox. Nor did 
he disappoint the expectations of his employer. His deport- 
ment was so gentle and obliging, and his conversation so 
spiritual and holy, that he gained the affection and esteem 
of all." His health now became poor, and he was forced to 
relinquish his situation. Though feeble and languishing, he 
was not afraid to die. " Is there any thing," he would say, 
" any thing more here to be desired than the enjoyment of 
Christ ? Can I expect any thing here below, comparable to 
that blessed vision ? Oh, that crown and that rest which 
remain for the people of God ! And blessed be God, I can 
say it is mine. I know that when the earthly house of this 
tabernacle is dissolved, I have a building of God, a house 
not made with hands ; and therefore I desire not to be un- 
clothed, but clothed upon with Christ. With me to live is 
Christ, and to die is gain." 

He was greatly afraid of declension, both in himself and 
others. Writing to his brother, he says — " There is such a 



JOHN JANEWAY. 115 

thing as being almost a Christian ; as looking back into per- 
dition ; being not far from the kingdom of heaven, and falling 
short at last. Beware lest thou lose the reward. The 
promise is made to him that holdeth fast, holdeth out to the 
end, and overcometh. Labor to forget the things whickare 
behind, and reach unto the things which are before. Labor 
to enjoy converse with God. Strive to do every thing as in 
his presence and to his glory. Act as in the sight of the 
grave and eternity. Let us awake and fall to work in good 
earnest. Heaven and hell are before us. Why do we 
sleep? Oh, how will such tremble, when God shall call 
them to give an account of their stewardship, and tell them 
they may be no longer stewards ! 0, live more upon the 
invisible realities of heaven, and let a sense of their excel- 
lences put life into your performances ! " 

His great love for Christ and the souls of men, made him 
desirous to devote himself to the work of the ministry. Ac- 
cordingly, at the age of twenty-two, he entered upon the 
sacred office, with a deep sense of its responsibilities. He, 
however, preached but two sermons. These, it is said, " he 
delivered with such clearness and freedom, such tenderness 
and compassion, such power and majesty, as greatly amazed 
and affected all that heard him." 

The symptoms of a rapid consumption now became fear- 
fully developed, but Mr. Janeway " seemed to rise in holy 
courage and confidence " with their appearance. " The 
spitting of blood did not in the least intimidate him who was 
interested in the blood of Christ. In the progress of his 
disorder, he was seized with dimness in his eyes, which ter- 
minated in a total loss of sight. Being in expectation of his 
departure, he called his mother and said — £ Dear mother, I 
am dying ; but I beseech you be not troubled. Through 
mercy I am quite above the fear of death. I have nothing 



116 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

which troubles me, except the apprehension of your grief. I 
am going to him whom I love above life.' From this fainting 
fit the Lord was pleased to revive him ; and for several 
weeks his soul was so devoutly employed in the contem- 
plation of Christ and heaven, that he almost forgot his sick- 
ness. His faith, his love, and his joy, exceedingly abounded. 
He frequently exclaimed, ' Oh ! that I could let you know 
what I feel ! Oh, that I could show you what I now see ! 
Oh, that I could express a thousandth part of that sweetness 
which I now find in Christ ! You would then all think it 
worth your while to make religion your chief business. Oh, 
my friends, you little think what Christ is worth upon a 
death-bed ! I would not for a world, nay, for a million of 
worlds, be now without Christ, and a pardon ! ' Turning to 
his brothers, he thus addressed them : ' I charge you all, 
do not pray for my life : you wrong me if you do. Oh, the 
glory, the unspeakable glory, that I now behold ! My heart 
is full ! my heart is full ! Christ smiles, and I am con- 
strained to smile. Can you find in your hearts to stop me, 
now I am going to the complete, eternal enjoyment of Christ ? 
Would you keep me from my crown ? The arms of my 
blessed Saviour are open to receive me. The angels stand 
ready to carry my soul into his bosom. Oh, did you but 
see what I see, you would all cry out with me, Dear Lord, 
how long ? Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.' 

" It was his custom to set apart an hour every day, for 
secret retirement and solemn meditation. On one of these 
occasions, a friend of his, unknown to him, happened to be 
in a situation, where he observed all that passed ; and his 
remarks on the scene before him, are worthy of insertion : 
1 What a spectacle did I behold ! Surely, a man walking 
with God, conversing intimately with him, and maintaining a 
holy freedom with the great Jehovah. Methought I saw a 



JOHN JANEWAY. 117 

spiritual merchant in a heavenly exchange, pursuing a rich 
trade for the treasures of the other world. Oh, what an 
animating sight it was ! Methinks I see him still. How lovely 
was his countenance ! His looks and smiles, and every mo- 
tion, spoke him to be upon the confines of glory.' Thus he 
continued, admiring and adoring the sovereignty of divine 
grace. As he experienced the intermission of triumphant 
joy, he cried — < Hold out faith and patience, yet a little 
while, and your work is done. Why art thou not, my 
soul, swallowed up every moment, with his free, unparal- 
leled, everlasting love ? Stand astonished, ye heavens, and 
wonder, ye angels, at this infinite grace ! ' One of his 
brothers having prayed with him, his joys became unutter- 
able ; and ' I believe,' says the author of his biography, 
6 that it exceeds the highest strains of rhetoric to set forth 
to the life, what this heavenly man delivered.' He broke out 
into such words as these : 'Oh, he is come ! He is come ! 
Oh, how sweet, how glorious is the blessed Jesus ! He is 
altogether lovely ! Oh my friends, stand and wonder ! How 
shall I speak the thousandth part of his praises ! Oh, for 
words to set forth a little of that excellency ! But it is inex- 
pressible. Oh, how excellent and glorious is the blessed 
Jesus ! Come, my friends, look upon a dying man and 
wonder. Was there ever greater kindness ? Was there 
ever more sensible manifestation of rich grace ? Oh, why 
me, Lord ? Why me ? Surely, this is akin to heaven. If 
this be dying, it is sweet. Oh, that you did but see, and 
feel what I do ! Behold a dying man, more cheerful than 
you ever saw a man in health, and in the midst of his 
sweetest worldly enjoyments ! Oh sirs, worldly pleasures 
are poor, pitiful, sorry things, when compared with this glory 
now in my soul ? This is the hour that I have waited for. 
Praise is now my work, and I shall be engaged in that sweet 



118 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

employment for ever. 0, help me to praise him ; I have 
nothing else to do. I have done with prayer ; I have almost 
done with conversing with mortals. I shall soon behold 
Christ himself, who died for me, and loved me, and washed 
me in his blood. I shall shortly be in eternity, singing the 
song of Moses, and the song of the Lamb. I shall presently 
stand upon Mount Zion, with an innumerable company of 
angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect. I shall hear 
the voice of multitudes, and be one amongst them who say, 
" Hallelujah ! glory, and honor, and power, unto the Lord 
our God ! " ' 

" He took a most affectionate leave of all the members of 
his family, exhorting and blessing each of them in particular. 
' My dear mother, brethren and sisters, farewell ! I leave 
you for a short time. I commend you to God and to the 
word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give 
you an inheritance among them which are sanctified. And 
now, dear Lord, my work is done. Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly.' After this, he presently expired, in June, 1657, 
in the twenty-fourth year of his age. 

" The foregoing account of this extraordinary young man 
was originally published with the recommendatory testimonial 
of four eminent ministers, attesting the fidelity of the nar- 
rative. A late popular writer observes, ' that if ever mortal 
ever lived the life of an angel while upon the earth, Mr. 
Janeway seems to have been the man ; ' and he adds, ' that 
his death-bed scene, above all others I have read or seen, 
appears to have had in it the largest share of divine commu- 
nications.' " 

Mr. Hall, in his preface to the Life of Janeway, beauti- 
fully and appropriately remarks : " Why should it be deemed 
strange and irrational, for a dying saint, who has spent his 
life in the pursuit of immortal good, to feel an unspeakable 



JOHN JANE WAY. 119 

ecstacy at finding he has just touched the goal, finished his 
course, and in a few moments is to be crowned with life ever- 
lasting ? While he dwells upon the inconceivably glorious 
prospect before him, and feels himself lost in wonder and 
gratitude, and almost oppressed with a sense of his unutter- 
able obligations to the love of his Creator and Redeemer, 
nothing can be more natural and proper than his sentiments 
and conduct. It affords no inconsiderable confirmation of 
the truth of Christianity, that the most celebrated sages of 
pagan antiquity, whose last moments have been exhibited 
with inimitable propriety and beauty, present nothing equal 
or similar, nothing of that singular combination of humility 
and elevation, that self-renouncing greatness, in which the 
creature is annihilated, and God all in all. I am much mis- 
taken, if the serious reader will not find in the closing scenes 
of this eminent Christian's life, the most perfect form of 
Christianity ; he will find it, not as it is often, clouded with 
doubts and oppressed with sorrows ; he will behold it ascend 
the mount, transfigured, glorified, and enriched with the 
beams of celestial majesty." 

" But on he moves to meet his latter end, 
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, 
While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
And all his prospects bright'ning to the last, 
His heaven commences ere the world be past ! " 



120 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



COTTON MATHER. 

The subject of the following sketch, one of the most illus- 
trious of the sons of New England, was the son of Increase 
Mather, a distinguished Puritan minister, and was born at 
Bostonin the year 1662. His marked proficiency in his studies, 
in his early youth, gave promise of his future greatness. At 
the early age of twelve years, having acquired the rudiments 
of the Latin, Greek and Hebrew languages, at the free 
school in his native city, he entered Harvard College, and 
soon distinguished himself in every branch of literature and 
science. " It was his custom to pursue his studies in a reg- 
ular, systematic manner, and to write remarks upon all the 
books he read, which tended to fix their contents in his 
memory. Before he was nineteen, he was admitted to the de- 
gree of M. A., and being engaged as a tutor in the college, 
he constantly improved himself, while he was instructing his 
pupils, in various departments of learning. Nor was he con- 
cerned merely to advance those committed to his care in 
general, but also to establish them in religious, knowledge. 
With the tenderest solicitude he watched over their morals, 
put the best books into their hands, conversed with them 
frequently and affectionately on subjects of the highest im- 
portance, and gently led them into the paths of divine wisdom 
and righteousness. " 

Mr. Mather felt it to be his duty, as it was indeed his in- 
clination, to preach the gospel, but he was troubled from his 
childhood with a stammering impediment in his speech. By 
following, however, the advice of some judicious friends, 
" and habituating himself to a deliberate manner of pronun- 
ciation, he remedied this defect." He devoted himself, 
therefore, to a thorough study of divinity, and with such 



COTTON MATHER. 121 

diligence and success, that before he was eighteen he was 
thought competent to the office of a pastor. " He first en- 
tered the pulpit in the year 1680, and gave such satisfactory 
evidence of his ability and piety, that in the following year 
the North Church at Boston gave him an unanimous invi- 
tation to become an assistant to his father, with a liberal offer 
for his support. 

" In the first year of his ministry, he had reason to be- 
lieve, he was the instrument of converting at least thirty 
souls. His diligence in improving time and doing good, was 
never surpassed. He laid down special rules to direct his 
studies, conversation, and public labors. In the account of 
one year, it appears that he had preached seventy-two ser- 
mons, had composed and published fourteen books, had kept 
sixty fasts, and twenty- two vigils, and almost every day had 
been employed in some exertions of private benevolence. To 
prevent the tediousness of visits, he had written in capital let- 
ters over the door of his study this monitory hint, ' Be short.' 

" In the morning he asked himself, What good may I do 
to-day ? This he was wont to vary through the week, in the 
following manner : On the Sabbath the question was, ' What 
shall I do, as a pastor, for the good of the flock under my 
care ? ' Monday morning — ' What good shall I do for my 
own family ? ' in which he considered himself as a husband, 
a father, and a master. For Tuesday morning — ' What 
good shall I do for my relations abroad ? ' Sometimes this 
was changed for — ' What good shall I do to my enemies ? ' 
1 How shall I overcome evil with good ? ' He used often to 
say — c That he did not know of any person in the world 
who had done him an ill office but he had done him a good 
one for it.' His question for Wednesday morning was — 
1 What shall I do for the churches of the Lord, and the more 
general interests of religion in the world ? ' Thursday morn- 
11 



122 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ing — * What good may I do in the several societies to which 
I belong ? ' The question for Friday was — ' What special 
subjects of affliction, and objects of compassion, may I take 
under my particular care ? and what shall I do for them ? ' 
On Saturday morning, his question related more immediately 
to himself — ' What more have I to do for the interest of 
God in mine own heart and life ? ' Yet notwithstanding his 
extraordinary care to husband every hour to some useful 
purpose, he frequently taxed himself with sloth and negli- 
gence. At the end of one year he writes : i Time so 
misspent, as to render it unfit to be called life ;' at the close 
of another — ' Alas ! my unfruitfulness !' 

" Dr. Mather has been charged with abetting the epidem- 
ical superstition of New England, in the close of the seven- 
teenth century. That there is too good ground for this 
charge, may appear from his publication, entitled, ' The 
Wonders of the Invisible World : or an account of the Trial 
of some witches lately executed.' This weakness, which 
was also exhibited by Sir Mathew Hale, and many other 
eminent characters of that age, candor will attribute to the 
remaining darkness and credulity of the times. Nor has 
this worthy divine escaped another censure, namely, that of 
a tendency to an excessive austerity of life. But the fre- 
quency of his fasts, and days of retirement for devotion, 
appear not to have interrupted his active exertions of benev- 
olence, and were probably the means of maintaining the life 
and energy of religion in his own soul. We should remem- 
ber who hath said, ' Them that honor me, will I honor; ' and 
perhaps we shall find more ground to suspect ourselves of 
lukewarmness, than to level severe and sweeping censures at 
his conduct." * 

The depth and sincerity of his piety will appear in a few 

* Sketch of his life by Thompson, from Mather's biography by his son, 



COTTON MATHER. 123 

extracts selected from his private diary, during these hours 
of retirement. On one of these occasions he says : " While 
I was in the midst of disconsolate reflections, the Spirit of 
the Lord caused me to behold the obedience, the sacrifice, 
and thesurety ship, of my precious Redeemer, as provided 
by the Father, for the relief of my distresses ; and that good 
Spirit caused me to rely upon it. So that I said with tears 
of joy before the Lord — ' Now I know that all my debts 
are paid. My God will now make no demand upon me, but 
that I love him, and praise him, and glorify my blessed 
Saviour for ever. I know it, I know it. And now I will do 
so for ever ; I can do no other.' " He writes again : " The 
thoughts of Christ are become exceeding frequent with me. 
I meditate on his glorious person, as the eternal Son of God 
incarnate ; and I behold the infinite God as coming to me, 
and meeting me in this blessed Mediator. I fly to him on 
multitudes of occasions every clay, and am impatient, if many 
minutes have passed, without some recourse to him. I find, 
that where Christ comes, a wondrous light, life, and peace, 
come with him, together with strength to go through services 
and sufferings. The holiness and happiness to which I 
am introduced by this way of living, is better to me than all 
the enjoyments of this world. All the riches of this world 
appear contemptible things to me, while I have the unsearch- 
able riches of Christ. I care not if I am stripped of every 
thing else, if I may but enjoy this felicity. He is the sub- 
stance, and all the creatures are but shadows of him. From 
hence, I am wondrously reconciled to my approaching death ; 
for I consider it as my going from creatures here, to him in 
whom I shall have all that I leave, and infinitely more. 
When I now find any thing amiable or comfortable in any 
creature, I commonly fly away, as it were, from thence to 
my Christ, my Saviour ; and I think how great is his good- 



124 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ness and his beauty. As for 'the delights of the world, I 
know of none comparable to those I take in communion with 
my Saviour. As for the riches of this world, I use no labor 
for them. In my Saviour I have unsearchable riches ; and 
in my fruition of him, I have a full supply of all my wants. 
As for the honors of this world, I do nothing to gain them for 
myself. To be employed in the Lord's work, for the ad- 
vancement of his kingdom, is all the honor I wish. I find 
the thoughts of my Saviour for ever sweetening the bitter 
waters of Marah to me. I find him the Comforter, that 
always relieve^ my soul when I have him near to me. I 
dare not let my mind be idle as I walk the streets. I rebuke 
myself, and make my moan to heaven, if I have gone many 
steps without one thought of my Saviour." 

On another occasion he writes : " Heaven has, as it were, 
been open to me this day. Never did I so long to die, and 
fly away to heaven. I have seen and felt unutterable things. 
I have tasted that the Lord is gracious. I can by no means 
relate the communications of heaven, to which I have been 
admitted. I am now sure that the great God is my God ; 
and that I stand before him in the righteousness of Christ ; 
that no good shall be withheld from me ; that God will use 
me to glorify him greatly ; and that I shall be an object for 
the everlasting triumphs of infinite grace. I was scarcely 
able to bear the ecstacies of divine love into which I was 
raptured. They exhausted my spirits ; they made me faint ; 
they were insupportable : I was forced to withdraw from 
them, lest the raptures should make me swoon away." 

" Dr. Mather was confined about six weeks, by that sick- 
ness which terminated his valuable life. In a note to his 
physician, he says : ' My last enemy is come ; I would say, 
my best friend.' When one of his people asked him, whether 
he was desirous to die ? he answered — ' I dare not say that 



COTTON MATHER. 125 

I am ; nor yet that I am not. I would be entirely resigned 
to God.' 

" At another time he was mentioning some matters which 
he had in hand, and which he would willingly have lived 
to finish, but checked himself for harboring any desire of 
life, and said, ' If the God of my life hath ordered other- 
wise, I desire to have no will of my own.' When the phy- 
sician intimated that his sickness was likely to be unto death, 
he lifted up his hands and eyes unto heaven, and said — 
* Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.' And a few 
hours before his death, he exclaimed, ' Now I have nothing 
more to do here ; my luill is entirely swalloived up in the will 
of God: 

" To a young minister, his nephew, he said, — ' My dear 
son, I bless you ; I wish you all manner of blessings. May 
you be strong in the grace with which our Lord Jesus 
Christ will furnish you. And may you be an instrument in 
displaying his beauties and glories to others. Let it be your 
ambition to bring forth much of that fruit by which our 
heavenly Father is glorified. May you be faithful in good 
works. You have been intimately acquainted with my poor 
way of living. Follow whatever you have seen in it that is 
agreeable to the pattern of a glorious Christ. My dear son, 
I do, with all possible affection, recommend you to the bless- 
ing of our dear Lord Jesus Christ. Take my hand, with 
my heart full of blessings.' To his own son, he said : * You 
have been a dear and pleasant child to me, and I wish you 
as many blessings as you have done me services, which have 
been very many. I wish and pray that the God of Abra- 
ham, Isaac, and Jacob may be yours, and that his blessing 
may rest upon you. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be 
with you. Amen.' " 

He enjoyed the same sweet composure of mind until the 
11* 



126 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

last, and died February 13th, 1727, in the sixty-fifth year 
of his age. 

" Rejoice for a brother deceased, 

Our loss is his infinite gain ; 
A soul out of prison released, 

And freed from its bodily chain ; 
With songs let us follow his flight, 

And mount with his spirit above ; 
Escaped to the mansions of light, 

And lodged in the Eden of love." 



PROFESSOR HALYBURTON. 

It has often been deeply regretted, that so few materials 
are left to furnish the biography of many truly exalted and 
useful characters. In other cases, the records are so copious 
and interesting, that it is difficult to form an epitome, which 
is not either meagre or palpably defective. The subject we 
have now to introduce to our readers, belongs to this latter 
class. Halyburton has left an account of his own life 
and experience, which goes into details, calculated both 
to instruct and gratify ; but we must be sparing in our ex- 
tracts. 

He was born near Perth, December 25th, 1674. His 
father was one of three hundred ministers ejected for non- 
conformity, who, dying in 1682, his mother fled with her son 
Thomas, and a daughter, into Holland, to evade the scourge 
of persecution. While our young exile was in that country, 
he attended Erasmus's school, where he learned the Latin 
and Dutch languages. He continued there till 1687, and 
when he set out for Scotland, through the merciful interpo- 
sition of Providence, he narrowly escaped shipwreck. In 



PROFESSOR HALYBURTON. 127 

that age of bitter prejudice and rancorous violence, to what 
perils, and disasters, and sufferings, were the true servants 
of God exposed ! 

Being returned to his native land, Thomas Halyburton 
was sent to the University, where he made great profi- 
ciency. When he had finished his course there, he became 
chaplain to a noble family ; in which, meeting with a man 
of deistical principles, he was incited to apply himself 
to those studies that rendered him afterward so able an 
advocate for Revelation. 

After applying himself some time to theology, he under- 
went the usual examination, to which candidates for the min- 
istry were subject ; and in 1699 was licensed to preach. He 
entered upon this solemn and weighty office with a suitable 
sense of the responsibility attached to it, and with a fervent 
desire to be useful to the souls of his fellow men. 

In the month of May, 1700, he was appointed minister of 
the parish of Ceres, and, in the following year, he married a 
lady of most amiable character, by whom he had three sons, 
and six daughters, most of whom, together with their mother, 
survived him. He who enters with proper views and motives 
upon the pastoral charge, finds the work peculiarly arduous. 
His whole time, and full strength, are employed ; every 
talent, every faculty, and every feeling are put in requisition. 
How much such a concentration, and intense exercise of all 
the powers tends to wear down and exhaust both the body 
and the mind, can be only known by experience. Mr. Haly- 
burton labored with such diligence and zeal, in the large 
parish of Ceres, that his health began to decline ; and his 
indispositions increasing, he found himself incapable of dis- 
charging the duties which devolved upon him, in a sphere 
which demanded such exertions. Through the mediation of 
the synod of Fife, he was appointed, in 1710, by a patent 



128 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

of queen Anne, professor of divinity in the new college of 
St. Andrews. That he was well qualified for such a station, 
appears from the works he left behind. Among these, the 
book in which he has proved the " Insufficiency of Natural 
Religion, and the Necessity of Revelation to Man's Happi- 
ness," has been always held in high esteem. Never was 
infidelity, in this country, more daring, undisguised, and 
prevalent, than at the period in which our author lived. He 
beheld, with solicitude, the ravages of this deadly plague, 
and set himself vigorously to check its progress. In the 
treatise to which we have referred above, the rash and im- 
pious assertions of Hobbs are fully refuted ; the specious 
fallacies of lord Herbert are ably detected ; and the quibbles 
and subtleties of other writers of the same sceptical cast, are 
completely demolished and swept away. 

How mysterious and inscrutable are the ways of Provi- 
dence. We have already said, this good man was in the 
midst of his usefulness, as a parish minister, when his health 
failed. His amiable and cheerful temper, which nothing 
could discompose — his unwearied assiduity and vigilance in 
the care of his flock — his zeal and faithfulness, joined with 
sympathy and benevolence, had given him a place in the 
hearts and affections of his people. " He had," says one of 
his countrymen, " a peculiar talent for composing differ- 
ences. The prospect of divisions was afflicting to him ; and 
had some others been blessed with more of this spirit, his and 
our fears had been utterly disappointed." 

When raised to the divinity chair, in the college of St. 
Andrews, a pleasing scene of usefulness seemed to open upon 
him. Rut, alas ! he only continued in this . important office 
about two years and six months. On the 23d of September, 
1712, he finished his course, and received his reward. 
Rarely, if ever, have the victory and triumph of Christian 



PROFESSOR HALTBURTON. 129 

faith over death been more signal and animating, than in the 
last hours of this good man. From the abundant materials 
supplied by the biographer, only a few detached passages can 
be selected. 

September 18th, he said — "I shall shortly get a different 
sight of God from what I have ever had, and shall be more 
meet to praise him for ever. 0, the thoughts of an incarnate 
God are sweet and ravishing! And, 0, how I wonder at 
myself, that I do not love him more ; that I do not admire 
him more ! What a wonder that I enjoy such composure, 
under all my bodily pain, and in the view of death S What 
a mercy that, having the use of my reason, I can declare 
his goodness to me ! He hath stilled the tempest, and there 
is a sweet calm in my soul." It was evidently his anxious 
desire to impress upon all who surrounded him, the infinite 
value and importance of that gospel, from which his own 
consolations were drawn. To his physician he said — " The 
greatest kindness I am now able to show you, is to commend 
religion to you. There is, doctor, a reality in religion. This 
is an age that hath lost the sense of it. But God hath not 
said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain. I bless 
the Lord, I have seen that holiness yields peace and comfort, 
in prosperity and adversity ; therefore I am not ashamed of 
the gospel of Christ, because it is the power of God unto 
salvation to every one that believeth. I am so far from 
altering my thoughts of religion, on account of the opposition 
it meets with, and the contempt with which it is treated, that 
these things endear it the more to me. This is an evidence 
of the decay of religion. For when people have not its 
power and spirituality in their hearts, they must have some- 
thing to please their senses. This is my judgment, and I 
speak the words of truth and soberness. Every one that is 
in Christ Jesus is a new creature." 



130 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

He thus addressed the apothecary, a young man who 
attended him — "The Lord show you mercy. Study re- 
ligion in your younger years ; and remember that you will, 
on a death bed, have no comfort without it. I solemnly 
warn you, that if you shall become hardened by the frequent 
sight of persons in my circumstances, you will be in danger 
of losing all sensibility of conscience, and of being hardened 
for ever." 

To some of his brethren in the ministry, he said — 
" When I have been diligent in study and meditation, I have 
ever found the Lord shining upon me, and testifying his 
approbation. There is nothing to be had with a slack hand. 
It was the delight of my heart to preach the gospel, insomuch 
that it made me sometimes neglect a frail body. I have ever 
thought, that if I could contribute to the saving of a soul, it 
would be a star, a crown, and a glorious crown." 

September 19th, in the morning, being desired to lie still, 
and try if he could sleep, he replied — " Should not I 
employ the last remains of my strength to set forth his 
glory ? " Finding himself, before noon, very weak, he took 
leave of his wife and children, addressing himself particularly 
to each of them. His words, on this occasion, to the tender 
companion of his bosom, were : " A kind and affectionate 
wife you have been. The Lord bless you ; and he will bless 
you." To his servants assembled, he said — "My dear 
friends, make religion your main business, and mind that 
above all things. I charge jou. all, beware of graceless 
masters, and endeavor to live with those that fear God." 
Then he exclaimed — " Here is a demonstration of the re- 
ality and power of faith and godliness. I, a poor, weak, 
and timorous man, once as much afraid of death as any one ; 
I, who was many years under the terrors of death, come, in 
the mercy of God, and by the power of his grace, com- 



PROFESSOR IIALYBURTON. 131 

posedly, and with joy, to look death in the face. I have seen 
it in its paleness, and all the circumstances of horror that 
attend it. I dare to look it in the face, in the most ghastly 
shape, and hope to have, in a little time, the victory over 
it." 

He was not insensible of the ridicule and scorn with 
which devout men and their experience are treated by the 
w r orld ; but he was not to be moved by it. "I know," said 
he, " that a great deal of what is said by a dying man will 
pass for canting and roving ; but I bless God, he hath so 
preserved the little judgment I had, that I have been able 
to reflect with composure on his dealings with me. I am 
sober and composed, if ever I was sober. And whether men 
will hear, or whether they will forbear, this is a testimony. 
Am not I a man wonderfully upheld of God, under affliction 
and death ? The death of the saints is made a derision in 
our day. When such people shall come to my pass, they 
will not dare to laugh. I will rejoice in my God, and joy in 
the God of my salvation. I want death to complete my 
happiness." 

September 21st, being the Lord's day, he said — " Shall I 
forget Zion ? Nay, let my right hand forget her cunning, if 
I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy. 0, to have 
God returning to this church, and his work going forward in 
the world ! If all the drops of my blood, all the particles of 
my body, all the hairs of my head, were men, they should 
for this all go to the fire. sirs, I could not have believed 
that I should bear, and bear cheerfully, this rod, which hath 
lain on me so long. This is a miracle : pain without pain. 
And this is not the fancy of a man disordered, but of one 
who is fully composed. 0, blessed be God, that ever I was 
born ! I have a father, and a mother, and ten brethren and 
sisters, in heaven, and I shall be the eleventh. 0, blessed 



132 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

be the day that ever I was born ! 0, that I were where he 
is ! And yet, were God to withdraw from me, I should be 
weak as water. All that I enjoy, though it be miracle upon 
miracle, would not support me without fresh supplies from 
God. The thing I rejoice in is this, that God is altogether 
full ; and that in the Mediator Christ Jesus, is all fulness of 
the Godhead, and it will never run out." 

September 22d, he said — "I awoke in a sort of carnal 
frame, and thought I had lost my jewel : but now I hope he 
will stand by me to the end. If ever I was of clear judg- 
ment and memory in my life, it hath been since he laid his 
hand on me. What shall I render to him ? My bones are 
tearing through my skin, and yet all my bones are praising 
him. Glory to God, that a vile worm, the chief of sinners, 
is singled out to be a monument of grace, and a trumpeter 
of his praise. I listened to unbelief since I came to this 
bed, and it had almost killed me ; but God rebuked me. I 
sought the victory by prayer, and God gave it me. He is 
the hearer of prayer." After struggling with a defluxion in 
his throat, he said — " The Lord hath sent another mes- 
senger for me, to hasten me home." And some persons, 
fixing their eyes on him with great attention, he said to them, 
" Why look ye so steadfastly on me, as if by my might and 
power I were as I am ? Not I, but the grace of God in me. 
It is the Spirit of God that supports me. What cannot 
grace do ? You see a man dying, a monument of the 
glorious power of astonishing grace ; and generations to 
come shall call me blessed. Follow my advice. Study the 
power of religion. It is the power of religion, and not a 
name, that will give the comfort I find. If there be such 
glory in his conduct toward me now, what will it be to see 
the Lamb in the midst of the throne ! " To some of 
his brethren in the ministry, he said — " What a demon- 






PROFESSOR HALYBURTON. 133 

stration hath God given to you and myself of the immor- 
tality of the soul, by the vigor of my intellect, and the 
lively efforts of my spirit toward God, and the things of God, 
now when my body is so low and so pained ? " After a sore 
struggle in the night, he said — " When I shall be so weak- 
ened as not to be able to speak, I will give you, if I can, a 
sign of triumph when I am near to glory." In the course of 
the day, his speech having failed, a friend said : "I hope 
you are encouraging yourself in the Lord ;" upon which he 
lifted up his hands and clapped them, and quickly after 
breathed his last. 

" Sure the last end 
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit ! 
By unperceived degrees he wears away ; 
Yet, like the sun, seems larger at its setting ! 
High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches 
After the prize in view ! and, like a bird 
That's hampered, struggles hard to get away ! 
Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded 
To let new glories in, the first fair fruits 
Of the fast-coming harvest ! Then, Oh then ! 
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears, 
Shrunk to a thing of nought. 0, how he longs 
To have his passport signed and be dismissed ! 
'Tis done, and now he's happy ! The glad soul 
Has not a wish uncrowned " 

12 



134 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



ELIZABETH ROWE. 

Mrs. Rowe, a lady distinguished for her piety and poet- 
ical talents, was the daughter of a respectable dissenting 
minister, possessed of a moderate estate near Frome, in 
Somersetshire. Walter Singer, her father, was imprisoned 
at Ilchester, for nonconformity, in the intolerant reign of 
Charles II. His daughter, Elizabeth, was born in 1674. 
She early displayed a passion for reading, together with a 
devotional turn, which, however, did not impair her natural 
vivacity, or withdraw her attention from those elegant and 
agreeable arts, in which she attained such proficiency. At 
twelve years of age she began to direct her attention to 
poetry, music, and painting, and her taste for them contin- 
ued through life. Her verses were circulated and com- 
mended in the neighborhood, and introduced her to the 
family of lord viscount Weymouth, at Long Leat, near 
Frome. The deprived bishop Kenn was a resident in that 
house, and paid much attention to the young poetess ; and 
the honorable Mr. Thynne, son of lord Weymouth, under- 
took to be her teacher in French and Italian. The rapidity 
of her progress in learning, even exceeded the expectation 
which her friends had entertained, and in a few months she 
could read Tasso with great facility. Urged by frequent 
and importunate requests, she was prevailed upon, in her 
twenty-second year, to publish a volume of miscellaneous 
poems, which met with great acceptance. Possessing an 
agreeable person, and a large share of the accomplishments 
of her sex, she attracted several admirers, among whom is 
said to have been the celebrated M. Prior. Not impatient 
to put on the connubial yoke, she passed some years chiefly 

* Sketch by Thomson. 



ELIZABETH HOWE. 135 

in study, and the performance of the filial duties to her 
father, before she could be induced to change her condition. 
It was in the year 1710 that she gave her hand to Mr. 
Thomas Rowe, with whom, though he was several years 
younger than herself, she enjoyed the highest conjugal 
felicity. But this amiable man, scholar, and poet, was cut 
down at the most interesting period of life ; and died in 1715, 
and left his widow overwhelmed with a grief, which nothing 
but religion could have enabled her to support. The ex- 
quisite affliction which she felt under this painful stroke, is 
described by her in a monody, which she wrote on his death, 
deservedly admired for its unaffected eloquence and deep 
pathos. Though she survived twenty- two years, she contin- 
ued, to her last moments, to express the highest affection 
and veneration for his memory, and would often shed tears 
upon the bare mention of his name. 

Soon after the decease of her husband, she indulged her 
inclination to a contemplative life, by fixing her abode at 
Frome, where the greater part of her estate lay. Yet it 
was retirement, not solitude, which gave a charm to the 
country, beyond what the metropolis could afford ; for she 
paid occasional visits to some intimate friends, among whom, 
one of the most distinguished, was the excellent countess of 
Hertford. Her manners and attainments, qualified her for 
the best company; and, though she adhered to that religious 
communion, of which her parents were bright ornaments, 
there was no narrowness in her spirit, or repulsive austerity 
in her deportment. The manner in which she employed 
herself, and the list of eminent characters by whom she was 
beloved and esteemed, are recorded in the following lines, 
from a tribute to her memory, by Mrs. Barbauld : — 

" Yet in no useless gloom, she wore lier days, 
She loved the work, and only shunned the praise. 



136 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

Her pious hand, the poor, the mourner blessed, 
Her image lived in every kindred breast ; 
Thynne, Carteret, Blackmore, Orrery, approved, 
And Prior praised, and noble Hertford loved ; 
Seraphic Kenn, and tuneful Watts were thine, 
And virtue's noblest champions filled the line." 

In her retreat she composed several of her works, espe- 
cially those letters from the Dead to the Living, which her 
own loss doubtless had suggested. By some, this piece has 
been, and still is, much admired ; yet in the estimate of a 
sound and sober judgment, the romantic cast of its senti- 
ments and language, renders it not the fittest book to be put 
into the hands of young people. Of her poetical compo- 
sitions, besides the early volume already mentioned, she 
published " The History of Joseph," and other miscellaneous 
poems. Their general character is correct and melodious 
versification, and a flow of ornate language and tender, ele- 
vated sentiment. 

She had a good constitution, and enjoyed almost uninter- 
rupted health through a long series of years. About six 
months previous to her decease, she was attacked with a 
dangerous distemper, and lamented, to an intimate friend, 
that she did not find herself, on the approach of death, so 
composed as she could wish. Her fears, though sharp, were 
short ; the divine Spirit, after a little season, filled her with 
gladness unspeakable, by witnessing to her soul the interest 
which God's free grace had given her, in the atonement and 
mediation of him who died for sinners. Under these assur- 
ances, she experienced such repose and triumph, that she 
acknowledged with tears of joy, that she knew not that ever 
she had felt the like in her life. On this happy occasion, 
she repeated Mr. Pope's verses, entitled, " The Dying 
Christian to his Soul," with all the exalted transport which 
breathes in that exquisite piece of sacred poetry. 



ELIZABETH ROWE. 137 

After this threatening illness, Mrs. Rowe recovered her 
usual good state of health, though, at the time of her death, 
she had nearly numbered sixty-two years. On the clay in 
which she was seized with that distemper which, in a few 
hours, proved mortal, she seemed to those about her to be in 
perfect health and vigor. About eight in the evening she 
conversed with a friend, with her usual vivacity, and after- 
ward retired to her chamber. At ten, her servant hearing 
a noise in her room, ran in instantly, and found her fallen 
from the chair on the floor, speechless, and in the agonies of 
death. After heaving one groan, just before two o'clock on 
Sunday morning, her disembodied spirit took its flight to the 
realms of bliss and glory. A pious book was found lying by 
her, and some loose papers on which she had been writing. 
The following unconnected sentences were apparently pro- 
duced by her trembling hand at the approach of death. 

" guide, and counsel, and protect my soul from sin: 0, 
speak and let me know thy heavenly will ; speak evidently 
to my listening soul ! 0, fill my soul with love, and light, 
and peace, and whisper heavenly comfort to my soul ! 0, 
speak celestial Spirit, in the strain of love and heavenly plea- 
sure to my soul ! " 

She often wished and prayed for a sudden dissolution, and, 
by the stroke of an apoplexy, God was pleased to grant her 
desire. One of her friends, speaking of the decease of this 
extraordinary lady, says : " Though her death is universally 
lamented, the manner of it is rather to be esteemed a part 
of her happiness. One moment to enjoy this life, the next, 
or after a pause we are not sensible of, to find ourselves with 
God, or employed, and got beyond, not only the fears of 
death, but death itself, and in possession of everlasting life, 
and health, and pleasure. This moment to be devoutly 
addressing ourselves to God, or employed in delightful medi- 
12* 



138 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

tations on his perfections ; the next in his presence, and 
surrounded with scenes of bliss, perfectly new and unspeak- 
ably joyous, is a way of departing out of life to be desired, 
not dreaded, by ourselves, and felicitated, not condoled, by 
our surviving friends. When all things are in readiness for 
our removal out of the world, it is a privilege to be spared 
the ceremony of parting, and all the pains and struggles of 
feeble nature." 

Mrs. Howe, according to her request, was buried under 
the same stone with her father, in the meeting house, at 
Frome. Her funeral sermon was preached by Mr. Bowden, 
to whom she left a particular charge not to say any thing 
respecting her in the discourse. 

The charities of Mrs. Rowe to the poor were such as few 
have equalled, and none excelled. The first time she re- 
ceived a gratuity from a bookseller, she bestowed the whole 
sum on a family in distress. She consecrated half her yearly 
income to charitable uses, and her donations were rendered 
doubly valuable by the happy manner in which they were 
imparted. 

Her book, entitled " Devout Exercises of the Heart, in 
Meditation and Soliloquy, Praise, and Prayer," has been 
more widely circulated, and generally read, than any other 
of her productions. This work she sealed up, and directed 
it to be delivered to Dr. Watts, after her decease, with a 
letter to him, in which she gives some account, both of the 
work and herself. " The Reflections," says she, " were 
occasionally written, and only for my own improvement ; but 
I am not without hope, that they may have the same salutary 
effect on some pious minds, as reading the experiences of 
others has had on my own soul. The experimental part of 
religion has generally a greater influence than the theory 
of it ; and if, when I am sleeping in the dust, those soldo- 



ELIZABETH HOWE. 139 

quies should kindle a flame of divine love, even in the heart 
of the lowest and most despised Christian, be the glory given 
to the great Spring of all grace and benignity ! 

" I have now done with all mortal things ; and all to come 
is vast eternity ! Eternity ! how transporting is the sound ! 
As long as God exists, my being and happiness are, I doubt 
not, secure. These unbounded desires, which the wide 
creation cannot limit, shall be satisfied for ever. I shall 
drink at the fountain head of pleasure, and be refreshed 
with the emanations of original life and joy. I shall hear 
the voice of uncreated harmony, speaking peace and ineffable 
consolation to my soul. 

" I expect eternal life, not as a reward of merit, but as a 
pure act of bounty. Detesting myself, in every view I can 
take, I fly to the righteousness and atonement of my great 
Redeemer, for my pardon and salvation ; this is my only 
consolation and hope. Enter not into judgment with thy 
servant, Lord ; for in thy sight shall no flesh be justified. 
Through the blood of the Lamb, I hope for an entire victory 
over the last enemy ; and that before this comes to you, I 
shall have reached the celestial heights ; and while you are 
reading these lines, I shall be adoring before the throne of 
God: where faith shall be turned into vision, and these 
languishing desires, satisfied with the full fruition of immortal 
love. Amen." 



140 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



SAMUEL WALKER, CURATE OF TRURO.* 

Samuel Walker was born at Exeter, December 16th, 
1714, and was the youngest son of seven children. He was 
the grandson of Sir Thomas Walker, who represented the city 
of Exeter in many successive parliaments, during the reigns 
of Charles the First and Second, and whose lady was the 
only daughter of the Rev. S. Hall, youngest son of the ven- 
erable bishop Hall, a prelate to whom he was related by bonds 
more binding than those of consanguinity.! 

At the age of eight years, Samuel Walker entered the 
grammar school at Exeter ; and at eighteen was sent to the 
University of Oxford. In 1788 he made a tour on the con- 
tinent, with a younger brother of Lord Rolle ; and on his 
return in 1740, he became curate of Lanliver, in Cornwall, 
which, after some years, he quitted, and entered upon the 
curacy of Truro. 

While Mr. Walker lived at Lanliver, he was much 
esteemed for the decency and regularity of his conduct. He 
was diligent, from a sense of duty, in preaching and cate- 
chising: nor did he neglect, at any season, to visit his 
parishioners, and give them his best advice. Such was ever 
his concern for their eternal welfare, that in 1744, when 
laboring under a fever, he dictated a letter which, in case of 
his death, might be put into the hands of such of his parish- 
ioners, as neither his preaching nor his private admonitions 
had produced any effect upon. Had religion, therefore, re- 
quired nothing more than external decency of manners, and 
the regular discharge of the common duties of relative or 

* Sketch by Thompson. 

t For a fuller account the reader may consult the memoir written by the 
Rev. James Stillingfleet : the Life of Walker, prefixed to his fifty-two sermons, 
in Burder's edition. 



SAMUEL WALKER. 141 

official life, Mr. Walker would have had little occasion either 
to alter his principles, or new model his conduct. To con- 
sider, however, regularity in the observances of religious 
worship, abstinence from gross injustice and scandalous vice, 
and a readiness to do kind and benevolent actions, as consti- 
tuting a claim to the Christian character, is to substitute the 
form of godliness for its power. Such a. religion as this may 
appear fair in the eyes of men, and may serve to stifle 
the accusations of conscience ; but it will prove unavailing to 
any saving purpose. 

These observations will serve to explain the nature of those 
new views on the subject of religion, which Mr. Walker was 
led to embrace soon after his removal to Truro. Conversing 
with some friends on the nature and effects of justifying and 
saving faith, he began to suspect that, as yet, he was a 
stranger to it. Under this impression, he applied himself 
with diligence and fervid prayer to the study of the Scrip- 
tures ; and he soon discovered that, hitherto, he had been 
ignorant of their true meaning and import, inattentive to the 
spiritual state of his own soul and that of others, and gov- 
erned in his actions, not by the only Christian motives of 
love to God and man, but by such as were wholly selfish and 
worldly. He gained, at the same time, a farther insight 
into the real nature of man's spiritual disorder, and of the 
remedy afforded by the gospel. The change which had taken 
place in his views necessarily led to a considerable change in 
the style of his preaching, both as it respected the choice of 
his subjects, and the manner of his address. He dealt with 
his hearers as perishing sinners, showed the danger of their 
dependence on their formality and self-righteousness, and 
preached salvation only through faith in the blood of Christ. 
Through the powerful influence of the Spirit of God, this 
scriptural method of preaching produced a great effect. 



142 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

• 

Much surprise and indignation were excited. These feelings, 
however, were mixed with a secret fear, that all was not right 
with them, and with a curiosity to hear more of the matter. 
At length many came to Mr. Walker, inquiring what they 
must do to be saved ; and their number increased so greatly, 
as to require his utmost diligence. He found them ignorant 
in the highest degree ; and he devoted the evenings, after 
their business was over, to their instruction. His labors, 
through the blessing of God, were effectual to the conversion 
of numbers, whose conduct showed their faith to be both 
lively and sincere. In order to preserve them from defec- 
ation, and to promote their edification and growth in grace, he 
formed them into a religious society, for the purpose of re- 
ligious reading, conversation, and prayer, on the plan laid 
down by Dr. Woodward, in his Account of the Rise and 
Progress of Religious Societies in and about London. 

He was also much engaged in the neglected duty of 
catechising. In this he spent every Sunday evening, from 
six to eight, during the spring and autumn quarters. In the 
summer he had a catechetical lecture every Thursday eve- 
ning ; and, in winter, a lecture every Sunday evening, on 
Christ's sermon on the mount. During the last two years 
of his ministry, a considerable number of young persons 
were awakened, for whose benefit he instituted a private 
lecture twice a week, in his own room in the evening. But 
besides these public labors, by which his health was much 
impaired, his room was continually resorted to for private 
advice, except on Saturdays, which he always reserved to 
himself in order to prepare for the Sabbath ; and he reckoned 
that, from first to last, about a thousand of the inhabitants 
of the town, besides strangers, had thus resorted to him. 
After he became so much engaged, he had but little time for 
general reading. The Bible was then almost the only book 



SAMUEL WALKER. 143 

he studied. From this sacred fountain he drew his deep and 
practical acquaintance with divine truth. 

The blessing which had attended Mr. Walker's ministra- 
tions at Truro, seemed to constitute a new and affecting 
relation between him and his flock ; and it became his fixed 
purpose, that no worldly consideration should induce him to 
leave them. On this account he gave up the living of Tal- 
land, to which he had been presented, and remained satisfied 
with his curacy at Truro, although his circumstances were so 
low, that he was obliged to live in rather mean lodgings. 
Here, however, though his habitation and his fare were of 
the plainest kind, yet, with a mind wholly intent on the work 
of his ministry, he lived in contentment and peace. A 
remarkable proof of Mr. Walker's zeal for the salvation of 
souls, appeared in his exertions among a regiment of soldiers, 
who were stationed for a short time at Truro, and among 
whom he labored incessantly during their stay. About a 
hundred of them were excited, by his means, to an earnest 
concern for their salvation ; and a considerable amendment 
was produced in the external conduct of the regiment at 
large. The captains of companies, in a body, waited on 
Mr. Walker, to return him thanks for the reformation wrought 
by his useful labors. 

Mr. Walker very strongly pressed on those who consulted 
him, the necessity of a diligent attention to the duties of 
their secular callings, assuring them, that the peace of their 
minds would be more effectually promoted by an industrious 
application to those employments, in the fear of God, and in 
obedience to his will, than by studying religious books, or 
engaging in religious exercises, to the neglect of their proper 
business ; a representation, the truth of which has been 
abundantly confirmed by experience. 

In April, 1760, Mr. Walker was unfitted, by ill health, 



144 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

for the performance of any farther service in the public con- 
gregation. A fever, which confined him for some weeks, 
was followed by a consumptive cough. He was invited by 
the Earl of Dartmouth, to Blackheath, to try the effect of 
change of air, as well as to be in the way of enjoying the 
best medical advice. Here, and also at Bristol, where he 
resided some time, he was much visited ; and, by means of 
his conversation, he was made greatly instrumental in pro- 
moting the good of many. He continued, to the last, to 
give suitable exhortations to those who were about him. The 
state of his mind, in the near approach of dissolution, may 
be seen in the following letters, the former penned fifteen, and 
the latter five days before his death. Both were addressed 
to a very intimate friend at Truro. 

" My disorder, though by no means affording to myself 
the least prospect of recovery, yet seems to affect me at 
present more with weakness, than with that violent heat 
which rendered me incapable of all thought. I can now, 
blessed be God, think a little : and with what comfort do I 
both receive your thoughts, and communicate mine to you ! 
0, my dear friend, what do we owe to the Lord for one 
another ! more than I could have conceived, had not God 
sent me to die elsewhere. We shall have time to praise the 
Lord when we meet in the other world. I stand and look 
upon that blessed world with an established heart : I see the 
way prepared, opened, and assured to me, in Jesus Christ : 
and for ever blessed be the name of God, that I can look 
upon death, which introduces that glorious scene, without 
any kind of fear. I find my grand duty still is, submission, 
as to time and circumstances. Why should not I say to 
you, that I find nothing come so near my heart, as the fear 
lest my will should thwart God's in any circumstance ; here 
I think I am enabled to watch and pray in some poor measure. 



SAMUEL WALKER. 145 

Well, my dear friend, I am but stepping a little before you. 
You will soon also, get your release, and there we shall 
triumph for ever in the name, and love, and power of the 
Lamb. Adieu ; yours in the Lord Jesus Christ, for ever. 
Amen." July 14, addressing the same person, he says, — 
" With great confusion of thought, I have no doubts, great 
confidence, great submission, no complaining. The great 
thing which I have always feared, is, I believe, coming upon 
me ; that I am coming into a diarrhoea, confined to my bed, 
and have no strength. As to actual views of the joys that 
are coming, I have none ; but a steadfast belief of them in 
Christ. What I have found in myself for months, both as to 
the review of time past, and the present workings of the 
Spirit, has left me without any doubt of my union with 
Christ." 

On several occasions, he was heard to say, that he blessed 
God, that on the review of his life, for ten years past, he 
was able to see evident marks of his having lived with a 
single eye to God's glory. " The nearer I advance toward 
eternity, the more I am confirmed in the truth of the doc- 
trines I have preached and published. I am sure they will 
stand the test of the last day." Nothing was more remark- 
able in him than the constant and undisturbed tranquillity he 
maintained. Yet profound humility was blended with his 
hope and joy. One, sitting by his bed, observing what a 
blessing it was that his soul was ripe for heaven and eternity ; 
he interrupted him, saying, — " That the body of sin was not 
yet done away, but that he should continue a sinner to the 
last gasp, and desired him to pray for him as such." 

On Thursday, July 16th, starting up from an apparent fit 

of dozing, he took hold of the nurse by the hand, who was 

sitting by him, and uttered this rapturous expression : — "I 

have been upon the wings of the cherubim ; heaven has, in 

13 



146 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

a manner, been opened to me ; I shall be soon there myself, 
and am only sorry that I cannot take you with me." The 
next day, while a young clergyman, who came from a distant 
part of the country to visit his departing friend, was standing 
near his bedside, he lifted up his eyes, in a manner which 
bespoke a joy more than words could utter, and addressed 
him thus : — " 0, my friend, had I strength, I could tell you 
such news as would rejoice your very soul : I have had such 
views of heaven ; but I am not able to say more." 

On Sunday, July 19th, 1761, at Blackheath, he departed 
this life, in the forty-eighth year of his age, to enter upon 
an eternal Sabbath in that world, where neither death, nor 
sorrow nor sin, the source of both, has any place. 



JAMES HERVEY.* 

Some divines have been chiefly useful in the pulpit, while 
others have exerted a powerful, extended, and benign influ- 
ence over the minds of men by means of the press. Few 
writers, of the last century, were more popular than the 
author of u Meditations among the Tombs," and the Dia- 
logues, entitled " Theron and Aspacia." He was born at 
Hardingstone, a village near Northampton, in 1713-14. 
Those who have written memoirs of his life, give no particu- 
lars of his early years : we learn only, that he gained some 
acquaintance with the Latin and Greek languages, in the 
free grammer school at Northampton ; and, in the year 1731, 
was sent to Lincoln College, Oxford. The first two years in 

* Sketch by Thompson. 



JAMES HERVEY. 147 

the University were almost lost in indolence and frivolous 
pleasure ; but becoming acquainted with some persons who 
were deeply in earnest about religion, he was aroused to con- 
sider the grand concerns of his soul, and to apply to those 
pursuits of literature which invigorate and enrich the mind. 
It is not very uncommon, for those who stand forth as can- 
didates for the Christian ministry, to become so enamoured 
with the classics, as almost to confine their attention to them. 
James Hervey was not, while at college, thus spell-bound 
by the poets and sages of Greece and Rome. He learned 
anatomy from Dr. Keil, and natural philosophy from Dr. 
Derham's works, and Humphrey's translation of the Spec- 
tacle de la Nature. Such a course of reading and study, 
was well calculated to qualify him for expatiating on the 
wonders of the visible world, and magnifying the great 
Author of the Universe, by lucid and devout comments on 
his works. 

Being admitted to the degree of B. A., he entered into 
holy orders, and officiated a short time as a curate at Dumner, 
in Hampshire ; whence, in 1738, he went to reside at Stokes 
Abbey, in Devonshire, the seat of Paul Orchard, Esq., where 
he lived, more than two years, in great esteem and friend- 
ship with that gentleman. He next undertook the curacy 
of Biddeford. Here his congregation was large, but his 
stipend was small ; his people, therefore, voluntarily con- 
tributed to raise his income to sixty pounds per annum. He 
continued in this situation only about two years and a half; 
for the rector dying, the new incumbent dismissed him, to the 
great grief of the parishioners, who offered to support him at 
their own expense. When a clergyman acts in character, 
and manifests a warm concern for the welfare of his charge, 
he scarcely ever fails to win their esteem, and rivet their 
attachment. Mr. Hervey was never very popular as a 



148 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

preacher, but he delivered the great truths of the gospel 
with a seriousness and pathos which discovered the influence 
they had on his own heart ; and though his style of writing 
is florid, his pulpit addresses are said to have been remarkably 
plain and simple. 

In August, 1743, he returned to Weston Favel, and offi- 
ciated as curate to his father about seven years. 

In June, 1755, his health was greatly impaired by the 
close pursuit of his studies ; and his family, judging that a 
change of air would be beneficial to him, formed a design, 
which they executed, of conveying him to London, under the 
pretence of his riding a few miles in the post-chaise of a 
friend, who was going thither. When he arrived, he wrote 
a letter to a friend, in which he pleasantly complains of the 
stratagem played upon him. " If," says he, " you chide, I 
must accuse. Pray, where was your warrant, where your 
commission, to impress me into this journey ? However, as 
a good Christian, I forgive you and your accomplices. My 
animal nature is so feeble that I find no benefit from change 
of air, and from the enjoyment of the most pleasing society." 

Mr. Hervey continued in London nearly two years, during 
which time he was attacked with a severe illness, which 
brought him to the borders of the grave ; and he had 
scarcely recovered, before he was recalled to Weston Favel, 
in consequence of the death of his father. Upon this event, 
he succeeded to the benefices of Weston and Collingtree, 
both family livings, contiguous to each other. He attended 
the duty of both these parishes alternately with a curate. 
In the exercise of his ministry, he was judicious, faithful, 
fervent, and indefatigable. He did not satisfy himself with 
preaching merely on the Sabbath, but, while his health per- 
mitted, held a weekly lecture every Wednesday, which was 
very well attended. He always preached without notes, 



JAMES HERVEY. 149 

excepting on some particular occasions. He was also dili- 
gent in paying pastoral visits, and encouraged the people to 
repair to his own house to seek friendly and religious advice. 
His conversation was highly instructive, edifying, and savory ; 
and no man knew better how to turn the common incidents 
of life to profitable purposes. He was unusually diligent in 
catechising the children of his people, and possessed a skilful 
manner of at once engaging the attention, and opening and 
informing the minds of youth. And, as this profitable, but 
much neglected exercise was conducted in the congregation, 
the questions he proposed, with the answers returned, were 
often made the medium of conveying, in a delicate way, the 
most salutary hints and wholesome reproofs to the adult part 
of his charge. Addresses from the pulpit derive much of 
their efficacy from the preacher's conduct in private life. As 
Mr. Hervey's piety was sincere and ardent, hi? moral char- 
acter was highly exemplary ; his temper placid, disinterested, 
and unaffectedly humble ; and, in his ordinary transactions 
with others, he was ever cheerful, punctual, just, and candid, 
to persons of every denomination. In actions of benevolence, 
though he had some equals, yet it is certain that he had no 
superiors, as far as his means extended. That he might be 
liberal to others, he was extremely frugal in all expenses that 
related to himself, and used to say, " He desired to die even 
with the world, and be his own executor." In assisting the 
indigent, he chose to give clothing and food, rather than 
money ; and was remarkably kind and attentive to the sick 
and afflicted. " I am," said he, " God's steward for the 
poor, and I must husband the little pittance I have to bestow 
upon them, and make it go as far as possible." The entire 
profits of his works were given away in charity ; and, as 
they had a rapid and extensive sale, they must have been 
considerable ; the Meditations alone are known to have fetched 
13* 



150 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

seven hundred pounds for the copyright. It is not wonderful 
that a man so temperate, prudent, candid, and liberal, should 
be generally esteemed and beloved. He was a friend to the 
friendless, and a father to the poor ; a burning and a shining 
light, in his own proper sphere ; and a blessing to his fellow 
men at large. But this eminent Christian and excellent min- 
ister was cut off in the midst of his days and of his useful- 
ness. His constitution had been always delicate, and the 
ardor with which he pursued his studies and official duties, 
gradually reduced his frame, and undermined his health. 
The illness, which had been long coming on, was greatly 
increased in October, 1758, and, in December, became for- 
midable. On Sunday, the 3d of that month, in the evening, 
after prayer in the family, he seemed to be arrested by the 
messenger of death, so that the united assistance of his 
sister and his servant, with difficulty, enabled him to get up 
stairs into his room, from whence he never came down. His 
illness gaining ground every day, he soon became sensible of 
his approaching dissolution. Besides acute pain, from fre- 
quent returns of the cramp, he had likewise a hectic cough, 
which afflicted him so grievously in the nighttime, that he 
could seldom lie down in his bed till four in the morning. 

On the 15th of December, Mr. Maddock, his curate, being 
much with him, Mr. Hervey spoke to him, in strong and 
pathetic terms, of his assurance of faith, and of the great 
love of God in Christ. " Oh," said he, " what has Christ, 
how much has Christ done for me ! and how little have I 
done for so loving a Saviour ! If I preached even once a 
week, it was at last a burden to me. I have not visited the 
people of my parish, as I ought to have done, and thus have 
preached, as it were, from house to house. I have not taken 
every opportunity of speaking for Christ." These expres- 
sions being accompanied with tears, lest those around him 



JAMES HERVEY. 151 

should misconstrue this weeping, he proceeded : — "Do not 
think that I am afraid to die ; I assure you I am not. I 
know what my Saviour hath done for me. and I want to be 
gone. But I wonder and lament to think of the love of 
Christ, in doing so much for me, and how little I have done 
for him." In another conversation, discoursing of his 
approaching dissolution, which he did with the utmost calm- 
ness and serenity, and of the little which we know of God's 
word, he said, " How many precious texts are there, big 
with the richest truths of Christ, which we cannot com- 
prehend ! and, of those we know, how few do we remember ! 
' Bonus textuarius est bonus theologus ' — 'A good textuary 
is a good divine ; ' and that is the armor, the word of God 
is the sword. Those texts are the weapons which I must 
use when that subtle spirit, that arch adversary of mankind, 
comes to tempt and sift me in my last conflict. Surely I 
had need be well provided with these "weapons ; I had need 
have my quiver full of them, to answer Satan with texts out 
of the word of God, when he assaults me. Thus did Christ, 
when he was tempted in the wilderness. " 

On the 19th, the pains of his body abated, and he grew 
drowsy and lethargic ; and, in the night following, his imme- 
diate death was apprehended. The next day he was visited 
by Dr. Stonehouse, who declared, that, in his opinion, Mr. 
Hervey could not live above three or four days ; upon which 
he took occasion to speak of the many consolations, through 
Christ, which a true Christian enjoys in the prospect of 
death, and of the emptiness of worldly honors to an immortal 
soul, and of the unprofitableness of riches to the irreligious 
man. Mr. ITcrvey replied, " True, doctor, true ; the only 
valuable treasures arc in heaven. What would it avail me 
now, to be archbishop of Canterbury ? Disease would show 
no respect to my mitre. That prelate, Dr. Seeker, is not 



152 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

only very great, but, I am told, has religion really at heart. 
Yet it is godliness, and not grandeur, that will avail him 
hereafter. The gospel is offered to me, a poor country 
parson, the same as to his Grace. Christ makes no difference 
between us. Oh ! why, then, do ministers thus neglect the 
charge of so kind a Saviour ? fawn upon the great, and hunt 
after worldly preferments with so much eagerness, to the 
disgrace of our order ? These, these are the things, doctor, 
and not poverty or obscurity, which render the clergy so 
justly contemptible to worldlings. No wonder the service 
of our church, grieved I am to say it, is become such a 
formal, lifeless thing, since it is, alas ! too generally executed 
by persons dead to godliness, in all their conversation ; 
whose indifference to religion, and worldly behavior, proclaim 
the little regard they pay to the Lord that bought them." 
On December 25th, the day of his death, he strongly and 
affectionately urged upon the doctor the importance of 
attending, amidst all the business of his profession, to his 
everlasting concerns. Dr. Stonehouse, perceiving the dif- 
ficulty with which he spoke, and finding, by his pulse, that 
the pangs of death were then coming on, desired that he 
would spare himself. " No, doctor, no," said he ; " you tell 
me I have but a few moments to live : oh, let me spend them 
in adoring our great Redeemer ! " He then repeated these 
words : " Though my heart and my flesh fail, yet God is the 
strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." And he 
expatiated, in the most pleasing manner, upon those words 
of St. Paul : " All things are yours ; life and death : for ye 
are Christ's." At the same time, referring them to this 
passage in Dr. Doddridge's Family Expositor, where it is 
instructively illustrated ; — " There," said he, " is the trea- 
sure of a Christian ; death is reckoned in this inventory, and 
a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it 



JAMES HERVEY. 153 

is the passage through which I proceed to the Lord and 
Giver of eternal life, and as it frees Hie from all this misery 
you now see me endure, and which I am willing to endure 
as long as God thinks fit ; for I know he will, by and by, in 
his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These light 
afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an eternal 
weight of glory. Oh, welcome, welcome death ! Thou 
mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of a Christian. 
To live is Christ, but to die is gain." After which, as the 
doctor was taking his final leave of him, Mr. Hervey ex- 
pressed great gratitude for his visits, though it had long been 
out of the power of medicine to cure him. He then paused 
a little, and, with great serenity and sweetness in his coun- 
tenance, while raised a little in his chair, repeated these 
words : " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
according to thy most holy and comfortable word ; for mine 
eyes have seen thy precious salvation. Here, doctor, is my 
cordial. What are all cordials given to support the dying, 
in comparison of that which arises from the promises of salva- 
tion by Christ? This, this supports me." About three 
o'clock he said : " The great conflict is over ; now all is 
done." After which, he scarcely spoke any other words 
intelligibly, except now and then, " Precious salvation ! " 
During the last hour he said nothing, but leaned his head 
against an easy chair, and, without a sigh, groan, struggle, 
or the least emotion, shut his eyes, and departed, between 
four and five in the afternoon, on Christmas day, 1758, in 
the forty-fifth year of his age. 

When his body was conveyed to the church, it was covered, 
by his own express desire, with the poors' pall ; and a very 
large concourse attended the solemnity, who testified the 
affection felt for so valuable a pastor, by floods of tears, wept 
over his grave. 



154 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



RISDON DARRACOTT.* 

This amiable and useful divine was born February 1st, 
1717, at Purbeck, in Dorsetshire. His mother died in child- 
birth, and Risdon, which was her maiden name, was employed 
to perpetuate, in the branch, the memory of the parent stock. 
His father, removing into Devonshire, he received the rudi- 
ments of education partly at home, and partly under the 
tuition of Mr. Palk, a dissenting minister at South Moulton. 
About the age of fifteen, our young scholar entered the 
academy at Northampton, over which presided Dr. Dod- 
dridge. Though the Christian ministry was his ultimate 
object, it does not appear whether Risdon Darracott had 
experienced the change which produces true religion before 
he became a pupil in this seminary. He was, however, at 
an early period in his academic course, distinguished both by 
his diligence in study, and the fervor of his piety. Some 
manuscript volumes, written at college, equally attest the 
ability of the tutor, and the industry of the pupil. But it was 
the frankness of young Darracott's mind, the purity and 
strength of principle manifest in all his conduct, and the 
ardor of his devotion, which so fixed the affections of Dod- 
dridge, as to induce him to say — "I hope this young friend 
will be the guardian of my widow and orphans, should I be 
called away by death.'' 

While our student was at Northampton, he formed an 
intimacy with James Hervey, the author of several popular 
and useful religious books. From this good man, he received, 
on many occasions, such counsels and encouragements, as 
were adapted both to direct and animate him in the honor- 
able service of Christ. 

* Sketch by Thompson. 



R1SD0N DARRACOTT. 155 

In the summer of 1738, Darracott, leaving the academy, 
visited Chumleigh, in Devonshire, and, for a short time, filled 
the pulpit which had been left vacant by the recent death 
of his father. Hence he went to Penzance, in Cornwall. 
His acceptance and success at this last mentioned place, 
were highly encouraging, " The Spirit of God," said he, to 
a friend, " is usefully moving upon the hearts of men here ; 
through my preaching several are awakened, and setting 
their faces toward Zion ; some very vicious and debauched 
characters are reformed, the young men show great serious- 
ness, and I have great hope of several of them ; and what 
makes all this the more remarkable is, that there was a 
strange lukewarmness among professors themselves when 
I came hither ; the church seemed to have a name, that it 
lived, and was dead." 

The prosperity which attended Mr. Darracott's ministry 
at Penzance, was greatly promoted by private means, which 
are of far greater importance than many seem to imagine. 
That pastoral visits and social meetings for private devotion, 
ought not to preclude opportunities for study, nor induce a 
habit of desultory preaching, is readily admitted ; for this 
would be sacrificing the primary means of usefulness to the 
secondary. But, after employing in the study as much time 
as is consistent with the preservation of health, and essential 
to the mental improvement which good preaching requires, 
sufficient leisure will still be left for abundant pastoral atten- 
tions, without which the flock will never prosper. " I have," 
says Mr. Darracott, " increased my public labors, and I 
make it my constant delightful business to visit the people 
from house to house, by which I inform myself how religion 
is regarded by them, being led to suit my public discourses 
more advantageously." 

Amidst these exertions and prospects, he was seized with 



156 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

an alarming disorder, and it was the opinion of his most 
judicious friends, that the air of Penzance would not agree 
with him. After his health was in some measure restored, 
he was invited to take charge of a congregation at Wel- 
lington, in Somersetshire, and saw it his duty to accept the 
invitation. He was ordained November 11th, 1741, and 
in the evening penned the following reflections, which give 
a pleasing view of the frame of his mind at that season. 

" This has been a solemn and delightful day. I have now 
put my hand to the gospel plough, with a desire never to 
look back. I have now publicly devoted myself to the work 
of the ministry, and I heartily rejoice in what I have done. 
May I never defile the sacred office ! may I never prove a 
dishonor to my Lord and Master ! may I not be a loiterer, 
but a laborer in his work ! and may my labors be crowned 
with abundant success ! Hitherto I have found it to be a 
delightful work, nor have I altogether labored in vain. I 
can never be enough thankful for what I have seen, and do 
still see, of a divine blessing upon my poor labors, while I 
would be encouraged hereby to hope and pray for greater 
success. Grant this, dear Lord, to thy unworthy servant, 
and thou wilt herein gratify his warmest wishes, and his 
highest ambition. Amen and Amen." 

Being now settled over a church and congregation, he 
married a lady, whose person and piety, temper and conduct, 
were admirably calculated to engage the affections, and aid 
the zealous efforts of our young evangelist. He reared an 
altar for God, where he had pitched his tent, and religion 
gave a dignity to the relations, and an exquisite relish to the 
comforts of domestic life. 

With new and augmented zeal, he discharged the arduous 
duties of his high and holy calling. His hearers increased 
so as to overflow the place of worship ; he opened houses for 



RISDON DARRACOTT. 157 

preaching in the adjacent villages, in some of which, where 
drunkenness, rioting, and every kind of vice, had prevailed 
for a long course of years, a striking reformation was 
effected. In the month of May, 1743, he was confined to 
the bed of sickness, and his life appeared in imminent 
danger. 

After Mr. Darracott recovered his health, he resumed his 
pastoral labors with increased ardor and usefulness. The 
place in which they met for worship was incapable of con- 
taining the eager crowds that flocked to hear him, and the 
people determined to enlarge it. The sixth anniversary of 
his ordination, which he always kept as a day of fasting and 
prayer, gave birth to the following grateful memorial on a 
review of the past : 

" 0, what thankfulness and joy has it raised in my heart 
to-day, to look over a list of so many seals given to my 
worthless labors. I have been praising God for one hundred 
and twelve souls, since this day six years, added to the 
church ; the far greater part of whom have been begotten 
again in Christ Jesus, under my ministry, and of all I have 
a good hope. A list of names which I would not part with 
for the joys of the whole earth." 

In 1750, Mr. Whitfield, proceeding on his way to embark 
for America, spent a short time with him, and in a letter to 
lady Huntington, says — " At Wellington, I lay at the house 
of Mr. Darracott, a flaming preacher of the gospel, and who, 
I think, may justly be styled, ' The star in the west? He 
hath suffered much reproach, the common lot of all that are 
owned in the Lord's vineyard ; and, in the space of three 
months, he hath lost three lovely children ; two of them died 
the Saturday evening before the sacrament was to be admin- 
istered. But weeping did not hinder sowing ; he preached 
the next day, and administered as usual : our Lord strength- 
14 



158 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ened him, and, for his three children, hath given him above 
thirty spiritual ones, and he is in a likely way of many 
more. He hath ventured his all for Christ ; and last week 
a saint died, who left him and his heirs two hundred pounds 
in land. Did ever any one trust in the Lord, and was for- 
saken ? At this place I began to take the field for the 
spring. At a very short warning a multitude of souls assem- 
bled, and the bread of life that cometh down from heaven 
was dispensed amongst them." 

In the year 1758, Mr. Darracott was attacked by that 
disorder which soon brought him to the grave. The first 
time was on the morning of the Lord's day. He went 
through the public services with more than usual solemnity, 
if with less than his usual animation. His audience was 
much affected, for he told them he felt all the solemn awe 
of a man about to put off this tabernacle. Such a calm 
seriousness must have been very touching from Darracott ; 
for it has been observed, that he looked " like one that lived 
upon live things." He administered the Lord's Supper for 
the last time, December 3d, 1758. 

On the evening of the same day he wrote a paper, in 
which he bids adieu to all sublunary things. The whole is 
peculiarly interesting, but a part only can be here given : — 
"This world has now no more charms to attract my heart, 
or make me wish a moment's longer stay. I have no en- 
gagements to delay my farewell — nothing to detain me 
now. My soul is on the wing. Joyfully do I quit mortality, 
and here cheerfully take my leave of all I ever held dear 
and beloved. Farewell, thou, my dearest wife ! my most 
affectionate, delightful companion in heaven's road, whom, in 
the greatest mercy God gave me, and has thus, to the end 
of my race, graciously continued to me ! For all thy care, 
thy love, thy prayers, I bless my God, and thank thee, in 



RISDON DARRACOTT. 159 

these departing moments. But, dear as thou art, and dearest 
of all that is mortal, I hold thee, I now find it easy to part 
from thee, to go to that Jesus, thine and mine, who is infi- 
nitely more dear to me. With him I cheerfully leave thee, 
nor doubt his care of thee, who has loved thee, and given 
himself for thee. ' Tis but a short separation we shall have ; 
our spirits will soon re-unite, and then never, never know 
separation more. For, as we have been companions in the 
patience and tribulation of our Lord's kingdom, we shall 
assuredly be so in his glory. Farewell, my dear children ! 
I leave you ; but God has bound himself, by a most invio- 
lable promise, to take care of you. Only choose him for 
your own God, who has been your father's God, and then, 
though I leave you exposed in the waves of a dangerous and 
wicked world, Providence, eternal and mighty Providence, 
has undertaken to pilot and preserve you. With comfortable 
hope, therefore, I bid you my last adieu ; pleading the 
faithful and true promise, saying, as the patriarch — ' I die, 
my dear children, but God shall be with you : ' praying, in 
humble faith, that your souls, with those of your parents, 
may be bound up in the bundle of life with the Lord your 
God. 

" Farewell, ye, my dear people ! to whom I have been 
preaching the everlasting gospel — that gospel wdiich is now 
all my hope and all my joy. Many, very many of you, are 
my present rejoicing, and will be my eternal crown of glory. 
And now I am leaving you, I bless God for all the success 
he has been graciously pleased to give my poor labors among 
yon ; for all the comfortable seasons of grace I have enjoyed 
with you." 

His illness continued three months, with intervals of 
excruciating pain, arising, as was conjectured, from stones 
in the kidneys, producing such inflammation as extended to 



160 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

all the adjacent parts ; yet nothing was heard from his lips 
but continued expressions of praise and thanksgiving. This 
led the apothecary to declare, in a letter which announced 
Mr. Darracott's death, — "Of all the death-beds I ever 
attended, I never saw such an instance of holy resignation 
and triumph." 

Adverting to his own incapacity for utterance, he addressed 
Mrs. Darracott thus — " My dear, do you speak of the good- 
ness of God toward me, for I want a tongue, but not a 
heart, to praise him." On another occasion, he exclaimed : 
" What attendants have I got ! Jesus is with me ; angels 
are my guardians ; the blessed Spirit is my comforter and 
supporter ; and you, my dear spiritual friends, waiting on 
me ; and my dear wife, the best of women. But don't think 
highly of me ; for if you have seen a measure of grace in 
me, you have seen a great deal of corruption." And to one 
who said — " Sir, you are going to receive the fruit of your 
labors ; " he answered, " No, it is all free grace, grace." 
A little before his departure, he asked, " How much longer 
will it be before I gain my dismission ? " It was answered, 
" Not long." " Well," he observed, " here is nothing on 
earth I desire ! here I am waiting ! what a mercy to be in 
Jesus ! " He then threw abroad his arms, and said — " He 
is coming, he is coming ! but surely this can't be death ! 0, 
how astonishingly is the Lord softening my passage ; surely 
God is too good to such a worm ! 0, speed thy chariot 
wheels; why are they so long in coming? I long to.be 
gone." At length, with a broken sentence in his mouth, the 
last words of which were — " faith and hope," he expired, 
March 14, 1759, in the forty-second year of his age. 



JOHN WESLEY. 161 



JOHN WESLEY. 

The life and labors of this well-known servant of God are 
so familiar to the general reader that but a short sketch of 
him will be necessary to preface the solemn and sublime 
hours that passed in his dying chamber. 

He was born in 1703, and was highly favored in having 
most excellent and pious parents. His father was a highly 
respected clergyman of the English church ; and his mother, 
the daughter of the eminent Dr. Samuel Annesly, was a 
lady of superior mind, and had been favored with every 
advantage for its improvement and discipline in her youth. 
The mother was the principal instructor of her children in 
their youth, and was every way fitted for this responsible 
task. To her strength of character, her early, consistent, 
and severe training, they were greatly indebted for the emi- 
nence to which several of them, especially the subject of this 
sketch, afterwards attained.* 

I can find, — says Dr. Whitehead, — no evidence that 
the boys were ever put to any school in the country : their 
mother having a very bad opinion of the common methods 
of instructing and governing children. She was particularly 
led, it would seem, to interest herself in John, who, when he 
was about six years old, had a providential and singular 
escape from being burned to death, upon the parsonage 
house being consumed. f There is a striking passage in one 
of her private meditations, which contains a reference to this 
event ; and indicates that she considered it as laying her 
under a special obligation u to be more particularly careful 
of the soul of a child whom God had so mercifully provided 

* Life of Wesley by Watson. 

t The memory of his deliverance, on tin's occasion, is preserved in one of 
his early portraits, which has, below the head, the representation of a house 
in flames, with the motto, " Is not this a brand plucked from the burning V " 

14* 



162 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

for." The effect of this special care on the part of the mother 
was, that, under the Divine blessing, he became early serious ; 
for at the age of eight years he was admitted by his father 
to partake of the sacrament. In 1714, he was placed at the 
Charter house, where he was noticed for his diligence, and 
progress in learning. Here, for his quietness, regularity, 
and application, he became a favorite with the master, Dr. 
Walker ; and through life he retained so great a predilec- 
tion for the place, that on his annual visit to London, he 
made it a custom to walk through the scene of his boyhood. 
To most men, every year would render a pilgrimage of this 
kind more painful than the last ; but Wesley seems never to 
have looked back with melancholy upon the days that were 
gone ; earthly regrets of this kind could find no room in one 
who was continually pressing onward to the goal. When he 
had attained his seventeenth year, he was elected to Christ 
Church, Oxford, "where he pursued his studies with great 
advantage, I believe under the direction of Dr. Wigan, a 
gentleman eminent for his classical knowledge." Mr. Wes- 
ley's natural temper in his youth was gay and sprightly, with 
a turn for wit and humor. When he was about twenty-one 
years of age, he appeared, as Mr. Badcock has observed, 
" the very sensible and acute collegian ; a young fellow of the 
finest classical taste, of the most liberal and manly senti- 
ments." His perfect knowledge of the classics gave a smooth 
polish to his wit, and an air of superior elegance to all his 
compositions. He had already begun to amuse himself 
occasionally with writing verses, though most of his poetical 
pieces, at this period, were, I believe, either imitations or 
translations of the Latin. Some time in this year, however, 
he wrote an imitation of the sixty-fifth Psalm, which he sent 
to his father, who says, " I like your verses on the sixty-fifth 
Psalm ; and would not have you bury your talent." 

Some time after this, when purposing to take deacon's 
orders, he was roused from the religious carelessness into 
which he had fallen at college, and applied himself diligently 
to the reading of divinity. This more thoughtful frame 
appears to have been indicated in his letters to his mother, 
with whom he kept up a regular correspondence ; for she 



JOHN WESLEY. 163 

replies, " The alteration of your temper has occasioned me 
much speculation. I, who am apt to be sanguine, hope it 
may proceed from the operations of God's Holy Spirit, that, 
by taking off your relish for earthly enjoyments, he may 
prepare and dispose your mind for a more serious and close 
application to things of a more sublime and spiritual nature. 
If it be so, happy are you if you cherish those dispositions ; 
and now, in good earnest, resolve to make religion the busi- 
ness of your life ; for, after all, that is the one thing which, 
strictly speaking, is necessary ; all things beside are com- 
paratively little to the purposes of life. I heartily wish you 
would now enter upon a strict examination of yourself, that 
you may know whether you have a reasonable hope of salva- 
tion by Jesus Christ. If you have, the satisfaction of know- 
ing it will abundantly reward your pains ; if you have not, 
you will find a more reasonable occasion for tears than can 
be met with in a tragedy. This matter deserves great con- 
sideration by all, but especially by those designed for the 
ministry ; who ought, above all things, to make their own 
calling and election sure ; lest, after they have preached to 
others, they themselves should be cast away." 

This excellent advice was not lost upon him ; and indeed 
his mother's admirable letters were among the principal 
means, under God, of producing that still more decided 
change in his views which soon afterward began to display 
itself. He was now about twenty-two years of age. 

He was ordained a deacon of the Church of England, in 
September, 1725, and was elected fellow of Lincoln College. 

His literary character was now established in the Uni- 
versity ; he was acknowledged by all parties to be a man of 
talents, and an excellent critic in the learned languages. His 
compositions were distinguished by an elegant simplicity of 
style, and justness of thought, that strongly marked the 
excellence of his classical taste. His skill in logic, or the 
art of reasoning, was universally known and admired. The 
high opinion that was entertained of him in these respects 
was soon publicly expressed, by choosing him Greek lecturer, 



164 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and moderator of the classes, on the seventh of November ; 
though he had only been elected fellow of the college in 
March, was little more than twenty-three years of age, and 
had not proceeded master of arts. He took this degree in 
February, 1727 ; became his father's curate in August the 
same year ; returned to Oxford in 1728, to obtain priest's 
orders ; and paid another visit to Oxford in 1729, where, 
during his stay, he attended the meetings of a small society 
formed by his brother Charles, Mr. Morgan, and a few 
others, to assist each other in their studies, and to consult 
how to employ their time to the best advantage. 

After about a month, he returned to Epworth ; but upon 
Dr. Morley, the rector of his college, requiring his residence, 
he quitted his father's curacy, and in November again settled 
in Oxford. He now obtained pupils, and became tutor in 
the college ; presided as moderator in the disputations six 
times a week; and had the chief direction of a religious 
society. From this time he stood more prominently forward 
in his religious character, and in efforts to do good to others ; 
and began more fully to prove that u they that will live godly 
in Christ Jesus, must suffer persecution." 

The religious society alluded to in this extract, originated 
with Mr. Charles Wesley, and is thus further noticed by his 
biographer : 

The lively disposition of Charles, although he pursued 
his studies diligently, and was unblamable in his conduct, 
repelled all those exhortations to a more strictly religious 
course which John seriously urged upon him, after he was 
elected to Christ Church. During his brother's absence, as 
his father's curate, his letters, however, became more grave; 
and when Mr. John Wesley returned to Oxford, in November, 
1729, " I found him," he observes, " in great earnestness 
to save his soul." His own account of himself is, that he 
lost his first year at college in diversions ; that the next, he 
set himself to study ; that diligence led him into serious 
thinking ; that he went to the weekly sacrament, persuading 
two or three students to accompany him ; and that he ob- 
served the method of study prescribed by the statutes of the 



JOHN WESLEY. 165 

university. " This," says he, " gained me the harmless name 
of Methodist." Thus it appears that Charles was the first 
modern Methodist, and that he in fact laid the foundations 
of the religious society which continues to be distinguished 
by that appellation. To this society Mr. John Wesley joined 
himself on his return to reside at Oxford ; and by his influence 
and energy gave additional vigor to their exertions to pro- 
mote their own spiritual improvement, and the good of others. 
The union of system and efficiency which this association 
presented well accorded with his practical and governing 
mind ; and, no doubt, under the leadings of a superior 
agency, of which he w T as unconscious, he was thus training 
himself to those habits of regular and influential exertion and 
enterprise, which subsequently rendered him the instrument 
of a revival of religion throughout the land. Of the little 
society of which, by the mere force of his character, he thus 
became the head, Mr. Hervey, the author of the " Medita- 
tions," and the celebrated Whitefield, were members. 

These devoted young men zealously applied themselves to 
the active performance of all known religious duties, visiting 
the sick and the prisoner, seeking out and relieving the poor 
and destitute, and teaching the gospel wdierever opportunity 
offered. With all this external rigidness and zeal for religion, 
there was still an important element lacking in the Christian 
experience of Mr. Wesley. Mr. Watson thus refers to this : 

In the midst of all this zeal, devotedness, and patience 
of reproach, when the eye of man could see nothing but a 
mature and vital Christianity, we are enabled to ascertain 
the state of Mr. Wesley's own heart as laid open by himself. 
Speaking of a time a little subsequent to the decided impres- 
sions he had received from the reading of Bishop Taylor's 
" Holy Living and Dying," and Mr. Law's " Serious Call," 
he says, " I was convinced, more than ever, of the exceeding 
height and breadth and depth of the law of God. The light 
flowed in so mightily upon my soul, that every thing appeared 
in a new view. I cried to God for help, and resolved not to 



166 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

prolong the time of obeying him as I had never done before. 
And by my continued endeavor to keep his whole law, 
inward and outward, to the best of my power, I was per- 
suaded that I should be accepted of him ; and that I was 
even then in a state of salvation." 

He was now manifestly seeking justification before God 
by efforts of a perfect obedience to his law ; nor was he then 
quite hopeless as to success. Some time afterward, still 
clearly convinced as he had been from the first that he was 
not in that state of mind, that settled enjoyment of conscious 
peace with God, that love to him, delight in him, and filial 
access to him, which the New Testament describes as the 
privilege of a true believer, but still diligently persevering 
in the rigid practice of every discovered duty in the hope 
of seizing the great prize by this means, he became greatly 
surprised that he was so far from obtaining it. He was often 
dull and formal in the use of the ordinances, and was on that 
account thrown into distress and perplexity ; so that he 
seemed at a loss which way to proceed, to obtain the happi- 
ness and security he wanted. He then needed some one 
more fully instructed in the true doctrine of salvation, than 
even the excellent and intelligent " guide of his youth," to 
teach him to lay clown the burden of his wounded and anxious 
spirit, in self-despair as to his own efforts, at the foot of the 
cross of Christ. 

In April, 1735, Mr. Wesley's father died in great peace 
at his rectory in Epworth. " He had," says Southey, " no 
fear of death ; and the peace of God which he enjoyed 
appeared sometimes to suspend his bodily sufferings v and, 
when they recurred, to sustain his mind above them. When, 
as nature seemed spent, and his speech was failing, his son 
John asked him whether he was not near heaven, he answered, 
' Yes, I am,' distinctly, and with a voice of hope and joy. 
After John had used the commendatory prayer, he said, 
i Now you have done all ; ' these were his last words, and he 
passed away so peacefully and insensibly, that his children 



JOHN WESLEY. 167 

continued over him a considerable time in doubt whether or 
not the spirit was departed. Mrs. Wesley, who for several 
days, whenever she entered his chamber, had been carried 
out of it in a fit, recovered her fortitude now, and said her 
prayers were heard, for God had granted him an easy death, 
and had strengthened her to bear it. Brighter views of the 
doctrine of faith had opened upon his mind, during his sick- 
ness, and shed their influence upon his last hours. This his 
sons afterward more clearly understood than at the time." 
> About the middle of this year, the trustees of the new 
colony of Georgia, who wished to send out clergymen both 
to administer to the spiritual wants of the colonists, and also 
to attempt the conversion of the Indians, directed their 
attention to Mr. John Wesley, and some of his friends at 
Oxford, as peculiarly qualified, both by zeal and piety, and 
their habits of self-denial, for this service. After some delay 
and consultation with his family, he accepted the offer. His 
brother Charles, and two other members of their religious 
society, accompanied him. Mr. Wesley was somewhat disap- 
pointed with the character and success of his labors in 
America. He had left England to become a missionary to 
the Indians, but found, upon his arrival, that his services 
were to be retained in the colony. His severe discipline and 
active piety raised up enemies against him in the loose and 
mixed population of the new country, and having become 
convinced that his usefulness was but limited, he returned 
home, arriving in London, February 3d, 1738. His religious 
experience at this time is thus recorded by himself: 



" It is upward of two years since I left my native country, 
in order to teach the Georgia Indians the nature of Chris- 
tianity ; but what have I learned myself in the meantime ? 
Why, (what I least of all suspected,) that I who went to 



168 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

America, to convert others, was never converted myself. ' I 
am not mad,' though I thus speak ; but ' speak the words of 
truth and soberness ; ' if haply some of those who still dream 
may awake, and see, that as I am, so are they. 

" Are they read in philosophy ? So was I. In ancient or 
modern tongues ? So was I also. Are they versed in the 
science of divinity ? I too have studied it many years. Can 
they talk fluently upon spiritual things ? The very same I 
could do. Are they plenteous in alms ? Behold, I give all 
my goods to feed the poor. 

" Do they give of their labor as well as their substance ? 
I have labored more abundantly than they all. Are they 
willing to suffer for their brethren ? I have thrown up my 
friends, reputation, ease, country ; I have put my life in my 
hand, wandering into strange lands ; I have given my body 
to be devoured by the deep, parched up with heat, consumed 
by toil and weariness, or whatever God shall please to bring 
upon me. But does all this (be it more or less, it matters 
not) make me acceptable to God ? Does all I ever did, or 
can know, say, give, do, or suffer, justify me in his sight ? 
yea, or the constant use of all the means of grace ? (which, 
nevertheless, is meet, right, and our bounden duty,) or that 
I know nothing of myself, that I am, as touching outward, 
moral righteousness, blameless ? or, to come closer yet, the 
having a rational conviction of all the truths of Christianity ? 
Does all this give a claim to the holy, heavenly, divine char- 
acter of a Christian ? By no means. If the oracles of God 
are true, if we are still to abide by ' the law and the testi- 
mony,' all these things, though when ennobled by faith in 
Christ, they are holy, and just, and good, yet without it are 
6 dung and dross.' 

" This then have I learned in the ends of the earth, that 
I am ' fallen short of the glory of God ; ' that my whole 
heart is ' altogether corrupt and abominable,' and, conse- 
quently, my whole life ; (seeing it cannot be, that ' an evil 
tree ' should ' bring forth good fruit ; ' ) that my own works, 
my own sufferings, my own righteousness, are so far from 
reconciling me to an offended God, so far from making any 
atonement for the least of those sins which i are more in 



JOHN WESLEY. 169 

number than the hairs of my head,' that the most specious 
of them need an atonement themselves, or they cannot abide 
his righteous judgment ; that having the sentence of death 
in my heart, and having nothing in or of myself to plead, I 
have no hope but that of being justified freely ' through the 
redemption that is in Jesus ; ' I have no hope, but that if I 
seek I shall find the Christ, and ' be found in him, not having 
my own righteousness, but that which is through the faith of 
Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.' 

" If it be said that I have faith, (for many such things 
have I heard from many miserable comforters,) I answer, 
so have the devils — a sort of faith ; but still they are stran- 
gers to the covenant of promise. So the Apostles had even 
at Cana in Galilee, when Jesus first ' manifested forth his 
glory ; ' even then they, in a sort, ' believed on him ; ' but 
they had not then ' the faith that overcometh the world.' 
The faith I want is ' a sure trust and confidence in God, that, 
through the merits of Christ, my sins are forgiven, and I 
reconciled to the favor of God.' I want that faith which St. 
Paul recommends to all the world, especially in his Epistle to 
the Romans, — that faith which enables every one that hath 
it to cry out, ' I live not ; but Christ liveth in me ; and the 
life which I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God, who 
loved me, and gave himself for me.' I want that faith which 
none has, without knowing that he hath it ; (though many 
imagine they have it, who have it not ; ) for whosoever hath 
it is freed from sin ; the whole ' body of sin is destroyed ' in 
him : he is freed from fear, ' having peace with God through 
Christ, and rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.' And he 
is freed from doubt, ' having the love of God shed abroad in 
his heart, through the Holy Ghost which is given unto him ; 
which Spirit itself beareth witness with his spirit, that he is 
a child of God.' " 

A spirit thus breathing after God, and anxious to be taught 
" the way of God more perfectly," could not be left in its 
darkness and solicitude. A few days after his arrival in 
London, he met with Peter Bohler, a minister of the Mora- 
vian Church. This was on February 7th, which he marks as 
"a day much to be remembered," because the conversation 
15 



170 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

which he had with Bohler on the subject of saving faith, a 
subject probably brought on by himself, first opened his mind 
to true views on that subject, notwithstanding the objections 
with which he assaulted the statements of the Moravian 
teacher, and which caused Bohler more than once to exclaim, 
" My brother, that philosophy of yours must be purged 
away." At Oxford, whither he had gone to visit Charles, 
who was sick, he again met with his Moravian friend, "by 
whom," he says, " in the hand of the great God, I was 
clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith 
whereby alone we are saved with the full Christian salvation." 

He was now convinced that his faith had been too much 
separated from an evangelical view of the promises of a free 
justification, or pardon of sin, through the atonement and 
mediation of Christ alone, which was the reason why he had 
been held in continual bondage and fear. In a few days he 
met Peter Bohler again, — u who now," he says, "amazed 
me more and more, by the account he gave of the fruits of 
living faith, the holiness and happiness which he affirmed to 
attend it. The next morning I began the Greek Testament 
again, resolving to abide by ' the law and the testimony,' 
being confident that God would hereby show me whether this 
doctrine was of God." 

In a fourth conversation with this excellent man, he was 
still more confirmed in the view, " that faith is, to use the 
words of our Church, a sure trust and confidence which a 
man has in God, that, through the merit of Christ, his sins 
are forgiven, and he reconciled to the favor of God." Some 
of his objections to Bohler's statements on instantaneous con- 
version were also removed by a diligent examination of the 
Scriptures. " I had," he observes, " but one retreat left on 
this subject : Thus, I grant God wrought in the first ages 
of Christianity ; but the times are changed. What reason 
have I to believe he works in the same manner now ? But, on 
Sunday, 22d, I was beat out of this retreat, too, by the con- 
curring evidence of several living witnesses, who testified 
God had so wrought in themselves, giving them, in a moment, 
such a faith in the blood of his Son as translated them out of 
darkness into light, and from sin and fear into holiness and 



JOHN WESLEY. 171 

happiness. Here ended my disputing. I could now only 
cry out, ' Lord, help thou my unbelief! ' " 

Mr. Wesley and a few others now formed themselves into 
a religious society, which met in Fetter-lane. But although 
they thus assembled with the Moravians, they remained 
members of the Church of England; and afterward, when 
some of the Moravian teachers introduced new doctrines, 
Mr. Wesley and his friends separated from them, and formed 
that distinct community which has since been known as " The 
Methodist Society." 

As yet Mr. Wesley had not attained the blessing for which 
he so earnestly sought, and now with clearer views. His 
language as to himself, though still that of complaint, was 
become, in truth, the language of a broken and a contrite 
heart. It w T as no longer in the tone of a man, disappointed 
as to the results of his own efforts, and thrown into distress- 
ing perplexity, as not knowing where to turn for help. He 
was now bowed in lowly sorrow before the throne ; but he 
knew that it was " the throne of grace ; " and his cry was 
that of the publican, " God be merciful to me a sinner." In 
a letter to a friend, he says, — 

" I feel what you say, though not enough ; for I am under 
the same condemnation. I see that the whole law r of God 
is holy, just, and good. I know every thought, every 
temper of my soul, ought to bear God's image and super- 
scription. But how am I fallen from the glory of God ! I 
feel that ' I am sold under sin.' I know that I too deserve 
nothing but wrath, being full of all abominations, and having 
no good thing in me to atone for them, or to remove the wrath 
of God. All my works, my righteousness, my prayers, need 
an atonement for themselves. So that my mouth is stopped. 
I have nothing to plead. God is holy : I am unholy. God 
is a consuming fire : I am altogether a sinner, meet to be 
consumed. 

" Yet I hear a voice, (and is it not the voice of God ? ) 
saying, ' Believe and thou shalt be saved. He that believeth 
is passed from death unto life. God so loved the world, that 
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on 
him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' " 



172 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

In this state of mind he continued till May the 24th, 1738, 
and then gives the following account of his conversion : 

" I think, it was about five this morning, that I opened 
my Testament on those words, ' There are given unto us 
exceeding great and precious promises, that by these ye 
might be partakers of the divine nature.' 2 Peter i. 4. Just 
as I went out, I opened it again on those words, ' Thou art 
not far from the kingdom of God.' In the afternoon I was 
asked to go to St. Paul's. The anthem was, * Out of the 
deep have I called unto thee, Lord : Lord, hear my voice. 
let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint. 
If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, 
Lord, who may abide it ? But there is mercy with thee ; 
therefore thou shalt be feared. Israel, trust in the Lord, 
for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous 
redemption. And he shall redeem Israel from all his sins.' 

" In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in 
Aldersgate-street, where one was reading Luther's preface 
to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, 
while he was describing the change which God works in the 
heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely 
warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for sal- 
vation : and an assurance was given me, that he had taken 
away my sins, even mine, and saved me from ' the law of 
sin and death.' 

" I began to pray with all my might, for those who had in 
a more especial manner despitefully used me, and perse 
cuted me. I then testified openly to all there, what I now 
first felt in my heart. But it was not long before the enemy 
suggested, ' This cannot be faith, for where is thy joy?' 
Then was I taught, that peace and victory over sin are essen- 
tial to faith in the Captain of our salvation : but, that as to 
the transports of joy, that usually attend the beginning of 
it, especially in those who have mourned deeply, God some- 
times giveth, sometimes withholdeth them, according to the 
counsels of his own will." * 

From this moment Mr. Wesley commenced his glorious 
and laborious ministry, preaching with an unwonted power 

* Watson's Life of Wesley. 



JOHN WESLEY. 173 

and unction, because lie spoke experimentally, and taught 
the things which he himself had seen and felt. 

At this period the religious and moral state of the nation 
•was such as to give the most serious concern to the few re- 
maining faithful. The Reformation from Popery, which so 
much promoted the instruction of the populace in Scotland, 
did much less for the people of England, a great majority of 
whose lower classes at the time of the rise of Methodism 
were even ignorant of the art of reading ; in many places 
were semi-barbarous in their manners ; and had been rescued 
from the superstitions of popery, only to be left ignorant of 
every thing beyond a few vague and general notions of re- 
ligion. Great numbers were destitute even of these ; and 
there are still agricultural districts in the southern and 
western counties, where the case is not even at this moment 
much improved. A clergyman has lately asserted in print, 
that in many villages of Devonshire the only form of prayer 
still taught to their children by the peasantry, are the 
goodly verses handed down from their popish ancestors : — 

" Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 
Bless the bed that 1 lie on," &c. 

The degree of ignorance on all Scriptural subjects, and 
of dull, uninquiring irreligiousness which prevails in many 
other parts, is well known to those who have turned their 
attention to such inquiries, and would be incredible to those 
who have not. 

During the civil wars between King Charles and his sub- 
jects, demoralizing influences were more widely spread, but 
the mischief was completed by the restoration of the Stuarts ; 
for whatever advantages were gained by that event in a civil 
sense, it let in a flood of licentiousness and impiety which 
swept away almost every barrier that had been raised in the 
public mind by the labors of former ages. Infidelity began 
its ravages upon the principles of the higher and middle 
classes ; the mass of the people remained uneducated, and 
were Christians but in name, and by virtue of their baptism ; 
whilst many of the great doctrines of the Reformation were 
banished both from the universities and the pulpits. Arch- 
15* 



174 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

bishop Leigh ton complains that his " church was a fair 
carcass without a spirit ; " and Burnet observes, that in his 
time " the clergy had less authority, and were under more 
contempt, than those of any church in Europe ; for they 
were much the most remiss in their labors, and the least 
severe in their lives." 

A great proportion of the clergy, whatever other learning 
they might possess, were grossly ignorant of theology, and 
contented themselves with reading short unmeaning sermons, 
purchased or pilfered, and formed upon the lifeless theologi- 
cal system of the day. A little Calvinism remained in the 
church, and a little evangelical Arminianism ; but the prev- 
alent divinity was Pelagian, or what very nearly approached 
it. Natural religion was the great subject of study, when 
theology was studied at all, and was made the test and 
standard of revealed truth. The body of the clergy neither 
knew nor cared about systems of any kind. In a great 
number of instances they were negligent and immoral ; often 
grossly so. The populace of the large towns were ignorant 
and profligate ; and the inhabitants of villages added to 
ignorance and profligacy, brutish and barbarous manners. A 
more striking instance of the rapid deterioration of religious 
light and influence in a country scarcely occurs, than in our 
own, from the Restoration till the rise of Methodism. It 
affected not only the church, but the dissenting sects in no 
ordinary degree. The Presbyterians had commenced their 
course through Arianism down to Socinianism ; and those 
who held the doctrines of Calvin had, in too many instances, 
by a course of hot-house planting, luxuriated them into the 
fatal and disgusting errors of Antinomianism. There were 
indeed many happy exceptions ; but this w T as the general 
stPcte of religion and morals in the country, when the Wes- 
ley s, Whitefield, and a few kindred spirits came forth, ready 
to sacrifice ease, reputation, and even life itself, to produce 
a reformation. 

Having formed a pleasant acquaintance with the Mora- 
vians upon his voyage to Georgia, Mr. Wesley makes a visit 
to Hernhuth, their settlement in Germany, that he might 



JOHN WESLEY. 175 

become better acquainted with their religious system and 
practices. During his absence, Mr. Charles Wesley was 
zealously engaged preaching the new views that he, as well 
as his brother, had lately embraced. About the time of Mr. 
Wesley's return from Germany, Whitefield, who had been 
in America, returned and commenced preaching to crowded 
houses in London and Bristol. On account of the crowds 
that attended his ministry and his earnest views and manner, 
the churches were closed against him, and he was driven 
into the fields. Tens of thousands gathered around him and 
hung upon his eloquent lips. He persuaded his bosom friend, 
Mr. Wesley, who was then in Bristol, to follow his example, 
and July 24, 1739, he delivered his first discourse in Moor- 
fields, in the open air, to a thousand persons of every age 
and condition in life. This was the commencement of a 
series of unprecedented labors among the poor and wofully 
neglected classes in the larger cities and towns in England ; 
among the besotted and frightfully vicious colliers of Kings- 
wood, the rabble of Moorfields and Kennington Common, 
London, he wrought a change that was looked upon in that 
day, as little short of miraculous. Societies in different 
places were soon formed, although all these persons were 
also considered members of the established church, and 
attended her services in connection with their own religious 
exercises. For these societies Mr. Wesley soon drew up a 
set of rules, which continue to this day, and the observance 
of which is the condition of membership in the body which 
bears his name. Great opposition attended the progress 
of the work, both from the vicious multitude, from the 
higher classes, and from the clergy ; (the lives of the Wes- 
leys oftentimes being in imminent danger,) but the blessing 
of God crowned it with success. Several ministers of the 
English church offered their services to assist the Wesleys 



176 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

in supplying the new societies formed in different places, and 
soon pious and talented laymen from the societies themselves, 
feeling themselves called to preach the gospel, offered them- 
selves to Mr. Wesley as helpers in the work, and were 
employed by him in such portions of the country as he 
directed. 

The first Conference, or assemblage of these ministers, 
was held in June, 1744. The societies had spread through 
various parts of the kingdom ; and a number of preachers, 
under the name of assistants and helpers, the former being 
superintendents of the latter, had been engaged by Mr. 
Wesley in the work. Some clergymen, also, more or less 
co-operated to promote these attempts to spread the flame 
of true religion, and were not yet afraid of the cross. These 
circumstances led to the distribution of different parts of the 
kingdom into circuits, to which certain preachers were for a 
time appointed, and were then removed to others. The 
superintendance of the whole was in the two brothers, but 
particularly in Mr. John Wesley. The annual conferences 
afforded, therefore, an admirable opportunity of conversing 
on important points and distinctions of doctrine, that all 
might " speak the same thing " in their public ministrations ; 
and of agreeing upon such a discipline as the new circum- 
stances in which the societies were placed might require. 
The labors of the preachers for the ensuing year were also 
arranged ; and consultation was held on all matters con- 
nected with the promotion of the work of God, in which they 
were engaged. Every thing went on, however, not on a 
preconceived plan, but " step by step," as circumstances 
suggested, and led the way. To the great principle of doing 
good to the souls of men, every thing was subordinated ; not 
excepting even their prejudices and fears, as will appear 
from the Minutes of the first conference, which was held in 
London, as just stated, in 1744. The ultimate separation 
of the societies from the church, after the death of the first 
agents in the work, was at that early period contem- 
plated as a possibility, and made a subject of conversation ; 



JOHN WESLEY. 177 

and the resolution was, " We do and will do all we can to 
prevent those consequences which are supposed to be likely 
to happen after our death ; but we cannot, in good con- 
science, neglect the present opportunity of saving souls 
while we live, for fear of consequences which may possibly, 
or probably, happen after we are dead." To this principle 
Mr. Wesley was " faithful unto death," and it is the true key 
to his public conduct. His brother, after some years, less 
steadily adhered to it ; and most of the clergymen, who 
attached themselves to Mr. Wesley in the earlier periods of 
Methodism, found it too bold a position, and one which ex- 
posed them to too severe a fire, to be maintained by them. 
It required a firmer courage than theirs to hold out at such 
a post ; but the founder of Methodism never betrayed the 
trust which circumstances had laid upon him. 

The superintendance of all the societies rested upon Mr. 
Wesley. He passed from one to another, preaching inces- 
santly, and setting in order all things connected with the 
doctrine and discipline of the church. With a naturally 
weak constitution, by abstemious and regular habits, he 
acquired a power of bodily endurance and labor scarcely 
equalled by any man ; preaching every day, some times 
often in the day ; taking long and painful journeys, engaging 
in religious controversies, preparing valuable compendiums 
of philosophy and theology for his helpers and congregations, 
with the care of all the churches upon him, he filled up all 
the hours of the twenty-four save the five he devoted to 
rest. * 

Societies now sprung up rapidly in every direction ; he 
visited Scotland and Ireland, preaching with great success, 
establishing preaching places and supplying them with labor- 
ers. Annually he met all his assistants to hear their reports, 
watch over their character and piety, direct in their future 
fields of labor, and to take counsel together in matters of 
doctrine and discipline. 



Yl^ THE EMINENT DEAD. 

We have not room in this short sketeh to follow this most 
laborious and sueeessful minister through all the years of Ins 
ttlrkably protraeted life, or to refer to the ex traordma y 
work of grace that attended his preaching, and that of Ins 
co-laborers, in the British isles and m 'America. 

Wesley enjoyed remarkable health until the last. He 
wesey eij j _ £< d j enter 

■writes in his journal, June ZS, UW -l J_ 

hito my eighty-eighth year. For eighty-six years I found 
nl 3 tffinLJies of old age ; my eyes did not wax dim 
Teulr was my natural strength abated; but ****** 
found almost a total change ; my eyes were so dim that no 
^Les would help me ; my strength likewise ou.e forsook 
me and probably will not return m this world. But I teel 
r P afn from head to foot, only it seems nature is exhausted, 
and humanly speaking, will sink more and more, till 

• The weary springs of life stand still at last.' " 

Says one who would not be liable, from his church rela- 
tion^ form too high an estimate ^f^"^ 

ever been without J^Jf J^fE^ prec eden, 

Ses in a year, which will give as the sum total, two hundred 
Id twenty thousand miles. His punctuality was a fixed 
a In A„Kt He had stated hours for every purpose, 
ifdltX^xatttas a change of employment. For 
X two years he generally delivered two, frequently three 
! Cs~s\r a day ; L calculating at two in a day 
Id Sowing fifty annually for extraordinary occasions the 
pilfer o/sermons, during this period, will be forty 



JOHN WESLEY. 179 

thousand five hundred and sixty. To these may be added, 
an almost infinite number of exhortations to the societies, 
after preaching, and in other occasional meetings at v/hich 
he assisted. 

" A writer of his life has observed, that, perhaps, Mr. 
Wesley was the most charitable man in England. His lib- 
erality to the poor knew no bounds but an empty purse. 
When he had thirty pounds a year, he lived on twenty-eight 
and gave away forty shillings. The next year he received 
sixty pounds, yet still lived on twenty-eight, and gave away 
thirty-two. The third year he received ninety pounds, and 
gave away sixty-tw r o. The fourth year his income was one 
hundred and twenty pounds, but living on twenty-eight he 
gave to the poor all the rest. In this ratio he continued to 
give through life ; and in the course of fifty years, it was sup- 
posed he had bestowed in charity between twenty and thirty 
thousand pounds. It is greatly to the honor of his memory, 
that, with all his influence and opportunities for accumulating 
property, he laid up nothing for himself, but expended all in 
the cause of religion and humanity." 

We come now to the thrilling and sublime hours in which 
this aged and wayworn soldier of Christ fought with, and 
triumphed over the king of terrors. These affecting scenes 
are thus recorded by his biographers :* On Wednesday, the 
the 23d of February, 1791, he went to Leatherhead, and 
preached to a small company, on " Seek ye the Lord while 
he maybe found ; call ye upon him while he is near." Here 
ended the ministerial labors of this man of God. On Thurs- 
day he stopped at Mr. Wolff's, at Balaam. At this place he 
was cheerful, and seemed nearly as well as usual, till Friday 
about breakfast time, when he grew very heavy. About 
eleven o'clock, he returned home ; and having sat down in 

* Coke and Moore. 



180 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

his room, desired to be left alone, and not to be interrupted 
for half an hour by any one. When the limited time was 
expired, some mulled wine was given him. He drank a 
little, and seemed sleepy ; but in a few minutes threw it up, 
and said — "I must lie clown." He accordingly was put to 
bed, and lay most of the day, having a quick pulse and a 
burning fever. 

On Sunday morning he got up, took a cup of tea, and 
seemed much better. While sitting in his chair, he looked 
quite cheerful, and repeated the latter part of that verse in 
the Scripture Hymns on " Forsake me not, when my strength 
faileth :" 

" Till glad I lay this body down, 
Thy servant, Lord, attend ; 
And ! my life of mercy crown 
With a triumphant end ! " 

Soon after, in a most emphatical manner, he said, " Our 
friend Lazarus sleepeth." Some who were then present, 
speaking rather too much to him, he tried to exert himself, 
but was soon exhausted and obliged to lie down. After a 
while he looked up and said, " Speak to me ; I cannot 
speak." On which one of the company said, " Shall we 
pray with you, sir ? " He earnestly replied, " Yes." And 
while they prayed, his whole soul seemed engaged with God 
for an answer, and he added a hearty Amen. 

About half after two he said, " There is no need for more 
than what I said at Bristol, (where taken with sudden illness 
he appeared near to death.) My words then were, 

" ' I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me ! ' " 

One said, " Is this the present language of your heart, and 
do you now feel as you then did ? " He replied, " Yes." 
When the same person repeated — 



JOHN WESLEY. 181 

" Bold I approach the eternal throne, 
And claim the crown through Christ my own," 

and added, " ' Tis enough. He, our precious Immanuel, has 
purchased, has promised all ; " he earnestly replied, " He 
is all ! He is all ! " and then said, " I will go." Soon 
after, to his neice, Miss Wesley, who sat by his bed-side, he 
said, " Sally, have you zeal for God now ? " After this the 
fever was very high, and at times affected his head ; but 
even then, though his head was subject to a temporary de- 
rangement, his heart seemed wholly engaged in his Master's 
work. 

In the evening, he got up again, and while sitting in his 
chair, he said, " How necessary is it for every one to be on 
the right foundation ! 

" ' I the chief of sinners am, 
But Jesus died for me ! • 

We must be justified by faith, and then go on to sanctifi- 
cation." 

On the next day sleeping much of the time, every waking 
moment exhibited his interest in the kingdom of Christ, and 
in his future residence in glory. Once in a low, but very 
distinct voice, he said, " There is no way into the holiest but 
by the blood of Jesus." 

He afterwards inquired what the words were on which he 
preached at Hampstead, a short time before. He was told 
they were these : " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he be- 
came poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich." He 
replied, " That is the foundation, the only foundation, and 
there is no other." He also repeated three or four times in 
the space of a few hours, " We have boldness to enter into 
the holiest by the blood of Jesus." 

Tuesday, March 1st, after a very restless night, (though 
16 



182 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

when asked whether he was in pain, he generally answered, 
" No," and never complained through his whole illness, 
except once, when he felt a pain in his left breast, when he 
drew his breath,) he began singing — 

" All glory to God in the sky, 

And peace upon earth be restored ; 
Jesus, exalted on high, 

Appear our omnipotent Lord ! 
Who, meanly in Bethlehem born, 

Didst stoop to redeem a lost race ; 
Once more to thy people return, 

And reign in thy kingdom of grace. 
Oh ! wouldst thou again be made known, 

Again in the Spirit descend ; 
And set up in each of thine own 

A kingdom that never shall end ; 
Thou only art able to bless, 

And make the glad nations obey ; 
And bid the dire enmity cease, 

And bow the whole world to thy sway." 

Here his strength failed ; but after lying still awhile, he 
called for a pen and ink. They were brought to him : but 
those active fingers, which had been the blessed instruments 
of conveying spiritual consolation and useful instruction to 
thousands, could no longer perform their office. Some time 
after, he said, " I want to write : " but on the pen's being 
put into his hand, and the paper held before him, he said, 
" I cannot." One of the company answered, " Let me 
write for you, sir ; tell me what you would say." " Noth- 
ing," replied he, "but, that Grod is with us." In the 
afternoon he said, "I will get up." While they were 
bringing his clothes, he broke out in a manner, which, con- 
sidering his extreme weakness, astonished all • present, in 
these words : 

" I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, 
And when my voice is lost in death, 



JOHN WESLEY. 183 

Praise shall employ my nobler powers ; 
My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
While life, and thought, and being last, 

Or immortality endures, 

" Happy the man whose hopes rely 
On Israel's God ; he made the sky, 

And earth and seas, with all their train ; 
His truth for ever stands secure, 
He saves th' oppressed, he feeds the poor, 

And none shall rind his promise vain." 

At another time he was feebly endeavoring to speak, be- 
ginning, " Nature is Nature is ." One that was 

present added, " Nearly exhausted, but you are entering 
into a new nature, and into the society of blessed spirits." 
He answered, " certainly ; " and clasped his hands together, 
saying, "Jesus ! " — the rest could not be well heard, but 
his lips continued moving as in fervent prayer. 

When he got into his chair, he appeared to change for 
death : but regardless of his dying frame, he said, with a 
weak voice, " Lord, thou givest strength to those that can 
speak, and to those that cannot. Speak, Lord, to a! our 
hearts, and let them know thou loosest the tongue. " 

He then sung — 

" To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
Who sweetly all agree." 

Here his voice failed him, and after gasping for breath, he 
said, " Now we have done — Let us all go." He then laid 
on the bed, from which he rose no more. After lying still 
and sleeping a little, he desired those who were present to 
pray and praise. They knelt down, and the room seemed 
to be filled with the divine presence. A little after he said, 
" Let me be buried in nothing but what is woollen, and let 
my corpse be carried in my coffin into the chapel." Then, 
as if done with all below, he again begged that they would 
pray and praise. Several friends that were in the house 



184 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

• 

being called up, they all kneeled down to prayer, at which 
time his fervor of spirit was visible to every one present. 
But in particular parts of the prayer his whole soul seemed 
to be engaged in a manner, which evidently showed how 
ardently he longed for the full accomplishment of their united 
desires. And when Mr. Broadbent was praying in a very 
expressive manner, that if God was about to take away their 
father to his eternal rest, he would be pleased to continue 
and increase his blessing upon the doctrine and discipline, 
which he had long made his aged servant the means of prop- 
agating and establishing in the world : such a degree of 
fervor accompanied his loud Amen, as was every way ex- 
pressive of his soul's being engaged in the answer of the 
petitions. 

On rising from their knees, he took hold of all their hands, 
and with the utmost placidness saluted them, and said, — 
u Farewell, farewell ! " 

A little after, a person coming in, he strove to speak, but 
could* not. Finding they could not understand him, he 
paused a little, and with all the remaining strength he had, 
cried out, " The best of all is, God is with us ;" and then, 
lifting up his dying arm in token of victory, and raising his 
feeble voice with a holy triumph not to be expressed, he 
again repeated the heart-reviving words — " The best of all 
is, God is tvith «s." 

Seeing some persons standing by his bed-side, he asked, 
" Who are these ? " and being informed who they were, Mr. 
Rogers said, " Sir, we are come to rejoice with you ; you 
are going to receive your crown." " It is the Lord's 
doing," he replied, " and marvellous in our eyes." On 
being told that his sister-in-law, Mrs. Wesley, was come, he 
said, " He giveth his servant rest." He thanked her as 
she pressed his hand, and affectionately endeavored to kiss 



JOHN WESLEY. 185 

her. On wetting his lips, he said, " We thank thee, 
Lord, for these and all thy mercies : bless the church and 
king ; and grant us truth and peace, through Jesus Christ 
our Lord, for ever and ever ! " 

At another time he said, " He causeth his servants to lie 
down in peace." Then pausing a little, he cried, " The 
clouds drop fatness ! " and soon after, " The Lord is with 
us, the God of Jacob is our refuge I " He then called those 
present to prayer : and though he was greatly exhausted, 
he appeared still more fervent in spirit. These exertions 
were however too much for his feeble frame : and most of 
the night following, though he often attempted to repeat the 
Psalm before-mentioned, he could only utter — 

" I'll praise — I'll praise 1 " 

On Wednesday morning, the closing scene drew near. 
Mr. Bradford, his faithful friend, prayed with him, and the 
last word he was heard to articulate was, " Farewell ! " 

A few minutes before ten, while several of his friends 
were kneeling around his bed, without a lingering groan, this 
man of God, this beloved pastor of thousands, entered into 
the joy of his Lord. He was in the eighty-eighth year of 
his age, and in the sixty-fifth of his ministry. At the desire 
of his friends, his corpse was placed in the new chapel, and 
remained there the day before his entombment. His face 
during that time had a heavenly smile upon it, and a beauty 
which was admired by all that saw it. 

" With poverty of spirit blessed, 
Rest, happy saint, in Jesus rest ; 
A sinner saved, through grace forgiven, 
Redeemed from earth to reign in heaven ! 
Thy labors of unwearied love, 
By thee forgot, are crowned above ; 
Crowned through the mercy of thy Lord, 
With a free, full, immense reward ! " 

C. Wesley. 

16* 



186 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 

Rev. William Grimshaw was born at Brindle, in Lan- 
cashire, September 3d, 1708. His youth was noted for its 
levity and dissipation. In his eighteenth year he entered 
Cambridge University, with the intention on the part of his 
friends of obtaining a preparation for the gospel ministry, 
but little promise did his collegiate life give of his future 
usefulness. Upon his graduation, however, in 1731, such 
was the low estimation of the spiritual preparation for this 
high vocation prevalent at this time, he was ordained a 
deacon, and entered at once upon the duties of his office. 
He performed the outward functions of his ministry with 
correctness and punctuality, and his conscience was satisfied, 
little interested in the present, or everlasting, religious 
welfare of his flock, or even of his own soul. In the year 
1734, Mr. Grimshaw was roused from his perilous state of 
insensibility, by the powerful convictions of the Holy Spirit, 
and he began, with the utmost anxiety, to seek the salvation 
of his soul. 

" He prayed much and waited long, before he experienced 
that peace of mind which is the effect of a lively faith in the 
Redeemer. But there was an immediate and great change 
in his outward deportment. He was no longer a trifler. He 
had now neither time nor taste for amusements and diver- 
sions. He attended diligently to the duties of his charge, 
warned his parishioners of the wrath to come, pressed upon 
them the necessity of a religious course of life, and carefully 
catechized their children ; knowing, and feeling in himself, 
the terrors of the Lord, he endeavored to persuade others of 
their danger. But it was some time before his own experi- 






WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 187 

ence warranted him to invite the weary and heavy laden to 
apply to Jesus, that they might find rest to their souls. " 

For a number of years his experience was not sufficiently 
deep or satisfactory to himself to secure abiding peace, 
although a manifest and happy change had been wrought in 
his heart and life. He was in " heaviness through manifold 
temptations," and found the more difficulty in discovering the 
beautiful and consoling simplicity of the doctrine of justifi- 
cation by faith, through the lack of pious associates and ad- 
visers, with whom he might compare experiences, and from 
whom he might receive light and sympathy. 

" In the midst of all his discouragements, he persevered 
in prayer, and in the study of the Scriptures ; and in due 
time, when he had learned by painful experience the deprav- 
ity of his nature, his utter unworthiness and insufficiency, 
his prayers were answered. His progress for a time was 
gradual, like the light, which, from a faint and scarcely 
discernible dawn, shineth more and more unto the perfect 
day. Then he gladly renounced all dependence upon 
himself either for righteousness or strength. He believed 
and was made whole. The voice of that blood which speak- 
eth better things than the blood of Abel, proclaimed peace 
in his heart. As the season of his consolation approached, 
his preaching became more savory, experimental, and suc- 
cessful. 

" In the year 1742, he was removed to the perpetual 
curacy of Haworth, near Bradford, in Yorkshire, to preach to 
a people, who, when he first went among them, were very 
ignorant, brutish and wicked. But very soon, by the bless- 
ing of God upon his ministry, this wilderness assumed the 
appearance of a fruitful field, and the desert rejoiced and 
blossomed like the rose." 

Thorough and deep was the work of grace in the heart of 



188 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

this good man, his whole being seemed to be consecrated to 
his master's service. He was accustomed, at different periods 
in his experience, to draw up with his own hand forms of 
covenant with his Redeemer, in which he would re-dedicate 
himself to his Lord's service. The following was written 
in 1744: 

" Eternal and unchangeable Jehovah ! Thou great Creator 
of heaven and earth, and adorable Lord of angels and of 
men ! I desire, with the deepest humiliation and abasement 
of soul, to fall down at this time, in thine awful presence, and 
earnestly pray that thou wilt penetrate my heart with a suit- 
able sense of thine unutterable and inconceivable glories ! 
Trembling may justly take hold upon me, when I, a sinful 
worm, presume to lift up my head to thee — presume to 
appear in thy majestic presence on such an occasion as this ! 
What is my nature or descent, my character or desert, that 
I should mention or desire to be one party, in a covenant, 
where thou, the King of kings, art the other? I blush even 
to mention it before thee. But, Lord, great as is thy 
majesty, so also is thy mercy. If thou hold converse with 
any of thy creatures, thy superlatively exalted nature must 
stoop infinitely low. I know that through Jesus, the Son of 
thy love, thou condescendest to visit sinful mortals, and to 
allow their approach to thee, and their covenant intercourse 
with thee. Nay, I know the scheme and plan is entirely 
thine own, and that thou hast graciously sent to propose it 
unto us; as none, untaught by thee, could have been able 
to form it or inclined to embrace it, even when actually 
proposed. 

" To thee, therefore, do I now come, invited by thy Son, 
and trusting in his righteousness and grace. Laying myself 
at thy feet with shame and confusion of face, and smiting 
upon my breast, saying, with the humble publican, God be 
merciful to me a sinner! I acknowledge, Lord, that I 
have been a great transgressor. My sins have reached unto 
heaven, and mine iniquities have been lifted up to the skies. 
My base corruptions and lusts have numberless ways wrought 
to brin£ forth fruit unto death. And if thou wert extreme 






WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 189 

to mark what I have done amiss, I could never abide in it. 
But thou hast graciously called me to return unto thee, 
though I am a prodigal son, and a backsliding child. Behold, 
therefore, I solemnly come before thee, my Lord ! I come 
convinced of my sin and folly. Thou knowest, Lord, I 
solemnly covenanted with thee, in the year 1738 ; and before 
that wonderful manifestation of thyself unto me, at church, 
and in the clerk's house, between the hours of ten and two 
o'clock on Sunday, September 2, 1744, 1 had again solemnly 
devoted myself to thee on August 8, 1744. And now once 
more and for ever, I most solemnly give up, devote, and resign 
all I am, spirit, soul, and body, to thee, and to thy pleasure 
and command, in Christ Jesus, my Saviour, this 4th day of 
December, 1752. Sensible, Lord, of my vileness and 
unworthiness, but yet that I am thy pardoned, justified, and 
regenerated child, in the Spirit and blood of my dear and 
precious Saviour Jesus Christ, by clear experience. Glory be 
to thee ! my triune God ! Permit me to repeat, and 
renew my covenant with thee. I desire and resolve to be 
wholly and for ever thine, in thy Spirit. Blessed God ! I 
most solemnly surrender myself unto thee. Hear, heaven, 
and give ear, earth ! I avouch this day, the Lord to be 
my God, Father, Saviour, Portion, for ever ! I am one of his 
covenant children, for ever ! From this day, I solemnly 
renounce all former lords, world, flesh, and devil, in thy 
name. No more, directly or indirectly, will I obey them. 
I renounced them many years ago, and I renounce them 
for ever. This day I give myself up to thee, a living sac- 
rifice, holy and acceptable unto thee ; and which I know is 
my reasonable service ; to thee I consecrate all my worldly 
possessions ; in thy service I desire and purpose to spend all 
my time ; desiring thee to teach me to spend every moment 
of it to thy glory, and the setting forth of thy praise, in 
every station and relation of life, I am now or may be here- 
after in. And I earnestly pray, that whatever influence 
thou mayest in any wise give me over others, thou wouldst 
give me strength and courage to exert it to the utmost, to 
thy glory, resolving not only myself to do it, but that all 
others, so far as I can rationally and properly influence 



190 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

them, shall serve the Lord. In that course would I, Lord, 
persevere to my last breath ; steadfastly praying, that every 
day of my life may supply the defects and correct the irregu- 
larities of the former, and that by divine grace I may be 
enabled, not only in that happy way to hold on, but to grow 
daily more active in it. Nor do I only consecrate all I have 
to thy service, but I also most humbly resign and submit to 
thy holy and sovereign will, all that I have. I leave, 
Lord, to thy management and direction, all I possess, and all 
I wish, and set every enjoyment and interest before thee, to 
be disposed of as thou pleasest. Continue or remove what 
thou hast given me, bestow or refuse what I imagine I want, 
as thou seest good ; and though I dare not say, I will never 
repine, yet I hope I may say, I will labor not only to submit, 
but to acquiesce ; not only to bear thy heaviest afflictions on 
me, but to consent to them, and praise thee for them ; con- 
tentedly resolving in all thy appointments, my will into thine ; 
esteeming myself as nothing, and thee, God, as the great 
Eternal all, whose word should determine, and whose power 
should order all things in the world. 

" Use me, Lord, I beseech thee, as the instrument of 
thy glory ; and honor me so far, as either by doing or suf- 
fering thy appointments, I may bring praise to thy name, 
and benefit to the world in which I live. And may it please 
thee from this day forward to number me among thy peculiar 
people, that I may no more be a stranger and foreigner, but 
a fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the household of God. 
Receive, heavenly Father, being already washed in thy 
blood, and clothed with tlry righteousness, me, thy child, 
and sanctify me throughout, by the power of thy Holy Spirit. 
Destroy, I beseech thee, more, the power of sin in my heart ; 
transform me more into thine image ; and fashion me into 
the resemblance of Jesus, whom I would henceforth ever 
acknowledge as my Teacher and Sacrifice, my Intercessor, 
and my Lord. Communicate unto me, I beseech thee, all 
needful influences of thy purifying, cheering, comforting 
Spirit ; and lift up that light of thy countenance upon me, 
which will put the sublimest joy and gladness into my heart. 

" Dispose my affairs, God, in a manner which may be 



WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 191 

wholly subservient to thy glory, and my own true happiness ; 
and when I have done, borne, and endured thy will upon 
earth, call me hence at what time, and in what manner thou 
pleasest. Only grant, that in my dying moments, and the 
near approach of eternity, I may remember these my engage- 
ments to thee, and may employ my latest breath in thy 
service. And do thou, when thou seest me in the agonies 
of death, remember this covenant too, though I should be 
incapable of recollecting it. Look down upon me, Lord, 
thy languishing dying child ; place thine everlasting arms 
underneath my head ; put strength and confidence in my 
departing spirit, and receive it to the embraces of thine 
everlasting love ! Welcome it to the abodes of those who 
sleep in Jesus, who are with him above, to wait with them 
that glorious day, when the last of thy promises to thy peo- 
ple shall be fulfilled in their triumphant resurrection, and 
that abundant entrance which shall be administered unto 
them, into that everlasting kingdom of which thou hast 
assured them by thy covenant ; in the hope of which I now 
lay hold of it, desiring to live and die with my hand upon 
that hope. 

" And when I am thus numbered with the dead, and all 
the interests of mortality are over with me, for ever ; if this 
solemn memorial should fall into the hands of any surviving 
friends or relatives, may it be the means of making serious 
impressions upon their minds ; and may they read it, not only 
as my language, but as their own ; and learn to fear the Lord 
my God, and with me, to put their trust under the shadow of 
his wings for time, and for eternity. And may they also 
learn to adore with me, that grace which inclines our hearts 
to enter into the covenant, and condescends to admit us into 
it, when so inclined ; ascribing with me, and with all the 
nations of the redeemed, to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
that glory, honor, and praise, which is so justly due to each 
divine Person, for the part he bears in this illustrious work. 
Amen. I solemnly subscribe this dedication of myself to 
the for ever blessed triune God, in the presence of angels and 
all invisible spectators, this fourth day of December, 1752. 
"William Grimshaw, 

"Minister of Haworih. 



192 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" I renewed this solemn dedication in a most awful manner, 
5th of June, 1760. Oh! that day! May I carefully 
remember and keep it ! 

" I proposed to renew this dedication with a quarterly 
fast, the first Friday in January, April, July, and October, 
during life." 

In the above covenant, allusion is made to an extraordinary 
spiritual manifestation which occurred in his clerk's house 
in 1744. The following account of it is given, by one who 
was his servant at this time: " She was called up that 
morning at five o'clock, but found her master was risen before 
her, and was retired into a private room for prayer. After 
remaining there some time, he went to a house in Haworth, 
where he was engaged awhile in religious exercises with some 
of his people ; he then returned home, and retired for 
prayer again, and from thence to church. She believes he 
had not eaten any thing that morning. While reading the 
second lesson he fell clown ; he was soon helped up, and led 
out of the church. He continued to talk to the people as 
he went, and desired them not to disperse, for he hoped he 
should return to them soon, and he had something extraor- 
dinary to say to them. They led him to the clerk's house, 
where he lay seemingly insensible. She, and others, were 
employed in rubbing his limbs, which were exceedingly cold, 
with warm clothes. After some time he came to himself, 
and seemed to be in great rapture. The first words he spoke 
were, * I have had a glorious vision from the third heaven.' 
But she does not remember that he made any mention of 
what he had seen. In the afternoon he performed service in 
the church, which began at two o'clock, and preached and 
spoke so long to the people, that it was seven in the evening 
before he returned home." 



H. HOUSMAN. 205 

To a person who came to see her, she said — " Cousin, I 
think I shall die : and now, what a comfort it is, that I am 
not afraid of death ! The blood of Christ cleanses me from 
all sin. But mistake me not ; there must be a life and con- 
versation agreeable to the gospel, or else our faith in Christ 
is a dead faith. Secure Christ for your friend ; set not 
your heart on things below : riches and honors, and what the 
world calls pleasures, are all fading, perishing things." She 
then threw out her hand, and said, " 0, if I had thousands 
and ten thousands of gold and silver lying by me, what 
could they do for me, now I am dying ? Take the advice 
of a departing friend who wishes you well. Do not set 
your affections on riches, or on any thing here below. He- 
member, death will come in a little while, whether you are 
ready or unready, willing or unwilling. I commend you to 
God. I hope, in a short time, we shall meet again", in 
heaven, that place of perfect rest, peace, and happiness." 

The whole time of her sickness, she was in a cheerful, 
thankful frame of mind. When she was cold, and had 
something warm given to her, she often said, " Blessed be 
God for all his mercies, and for this comfort in my affliction." 
On her attendant's warming a piece of flannel, and putting 
it around her cold hands, she thanked her for it, and said, 
" 0, how many mercies I have ! I want for nothing. Here 
is every thing I can wish for. I can say, I never wanted 
any good thing. I wish only for a tranquil passage to glory. 
It was free grace that plucked me from the very brink of 
hell ; and it is the power of divine grace that has supported 
me through the whole of my life. Hitherto I can say, the 
Lord is gracious. He has been very merciful to me, in 
supporting me under all my trials. The Lord brings afflic- 
tion, but it is not because he delights to afflict his children : 
it is at all times for our profit. I can say, it has been good 
18 



206 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

for me to be afflicted ; it has enabled me to discern things, 
which, when I was in health, I could not perceive. It has 
made me see more of the vanity and emptiness of this world, 
and all its delusive pleasures ; for, at best, they are but 
vanity, I can say, from my own experience, I have found 
them to be so many a time." 

To her husband, the day before she died, she said, " My 
clear, I think I am going apace ; and I hope you will be 
satisfied, because it is the will of God. You have at all 
times been very loving and good to me ; and I thank you 
for it kindly : and now I desire you freely to resign me to 
God. If God sees it best to prolong my stay here upon 
earth, I am willing to stay : or, if he sees it best to take me 
to himself, I am willing to go. I am willing to be and bear 
what may be most for his glory." 

The evening before she died, she found death stealing 
upon her ; and, feeling her own pulse, said — " Well, it will 
be but a little while before my work in this world will be 
finished. Then I shall have done with prayer. My whole 
employment in heaven will be praise and love. Here I love 
God but faintly, yet, I hope, sincerely ; but there, it will be 
perfectly. I shall behold his face in righteousness ; for I 
am thy servant, Lord, bought with blood, with precious 
blood. Christ died to purchase the life of my soul. A little 
while, and then I shall be singing that sweet song — ' Bless- 
ing and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that 
sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb for ever and 
ever.' " 

With smiles in her face, and transports of joy, she often 
said — " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly ! Why tarry the 
wheels of thy chariot ? blessed convoy ! come and fetch 
my soul to dwell with God, and Christ, and perfect spirits 
for ever and ever. When I join that blessed society above, 



JOHN LOCKE. 207 

my pleasures will never end. the glory, the glory that 
shall be set on the head of faith and hope ! " 

A few minutes before her departure, finding herself going, 
she desired to be lifted up. When this was done, she cheer- 
fully said, " Farewell, sin ! farewell, pains ! " — and so 
finished her course with joy. 



JOHN LOCKE. 

John Locke, the well-known and justly celebrated phi- 
losopher, was born in the year 1632. " He was well edu- 
cated ; and applying himself with vigor to his studies, his 
mind became enlarged, and stored with much useful knowl- 
edge. He went abroad as Secretary to the English ambas- 
sador at several of the German courts ; and afterwards had 
the offer of being made envoy at the Court of the Emperor, 
or of any other that he chose : but he declined the proposal 
on account of the infirm state of his health. He was made 
a commissioner of trade and plantations, in which station he 
very honorably distinguished himself. Notwithstanding his 
public employments he found time to write much for the 
benefit of mankind. His ' Essay on Human Understand- 
ing ; ' his ' Discourses on Government,' and his ' Letters on 
Toleration,' are justly held in the highest esteem. 

" This enlightened man and profound reasoner, was most 
firmly attached to the Christian religion. His zeal to 
promote it appeared, first, in his middle age, by publishing a 
discourse to demonstrate the reasonableness of believino- 

o 

Jesus to be the promised Messiah ; and, afterwards, in the 



208 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

latter part of his life, by a very judicious commentary on 
several of the Epistles of the apostle Paul. The sacred 
Scriptures are every where mentioned by him with the 
greatest reverence ; and he exhorts Christians f to betake 
themselves in earnest to the study of the way of salvation, 
in those holy writings, wherein God has revealed it from 
heaven, and proposed it to the world ; seeking our religion 
where we are sure it is in truth to be found, comparing spir- 
itual things with spiritual."* His last days are thus described 
by his biographer. 

Having paid frequent visits to Sir Francis Masham, at 
Gates, in Essex, England, he found the air there so agree- 
able to his constitution, and the society so delightful, that he 
was easily prevailed upon to become one of the family, and 
to settle there during the* remainder of his life. The air 
used to restore bim in a few hours after his return at any 
time from town, although quite spent and unable to support 
himself. Besides this, he found in Lady Masham, (the 
daughter of Dr. Cudworth) a friend and companion exactly 
to his mind. An apartment was provided for his sole 
accommodation, and every means used to render him at 
home. 

Having settled at Gates, he applied himself without inter- 
ruption, to the study of the Holy Scriptures, and in this 
employment he found so much pleasure, that he regretted 
his not having devoted more of his time to it in the former 
part of his life. Gn one occasion, in answer to a young 
gentleman who asked what was the shortest and surest way 
to obtain a true knowledge of the Christian religion ? he 
replied, " Let him study the Holy Scriptures, especially the 
New Testament : it has God for its author, salvation for its 
end, and truth without any mixture of error for its matter." 

*LindIey Murray. 



JOHN LOCKE. 209 

He suffered much from his asthmatic complaints, but these 
were alleviated by the kind attentions of Lady Masham. He 
foresaw that his dissolution was not far distant, and he could 
anticipate it without dread, and speak of it with perfect 
calmness and composure. 

After receiving the sacrament at home along with some 
friends, he told the minister, " That he was in perfect 
charity with all men, and in a sincere communion with the 
church of Christ, by what name soever it might be distin- 
guished." He lived some months after this, which he spent 
in acts of piety and devotion. When he was meditating 
upon the wisdom and goodness of the Creator, he could not 
forbear crying out, " Oh, the depths of the riches of the 
goodness and knowledge of God ! " What he felt on this 
subject he was anxious to infuse into the hearts of others. 
On the day previous to his departure, he said, he had lived 
long enough, and was thankful that he had enjoyed a happy 
life ; but that after all he looked upon this life to be nothing 
but vanity, that affords no solid satisfaction but in the con- 
sciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of another life. 

He had no rest that night, and begged in the morning to 
be carried into his study, where, being placed in an easy 
chair, he had a refreshing sleep for a considerable time. He 
then requested Lady Masham to read to him some of the 
Psalms, to which he appeared exceedingly attentive, till, 
feeling the approach of the last messenger, he requested her 
to desist, and in a few minutes expired, in the 73d year of 
his age. 

In a letter to a friend, Lady Masham said : " You will 
not, perhaps, dislike to know that the last scene of Mr. 
Locke's life was no less admirable than any thing else in 
him. All the faculties of his mind were perfect to the last ; 
but his weakness, of which only lie died, made such gradual 
18* 



210 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and visible advances, that few people do see death approach 
them so sensibly as he did. During all which time no one 
could observe the least alteration in his humor, always civil 
and conversable to the last day, thoughtful of all the concerns 
of his friends, and omitting no fit occasion of giving Chris- 
tian advice to all about him. In short, his death was like 
his life, truly pious, yet natural, easy, and unaffected ; nor 
can time, I think, ever produce a more eminent example of 
reason and religion, than he was, living and dying." 

" The last end 
Of the good man is peace ! How calm his exit ! 
Night dews fall not more gently to the ground, 
Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft! " 



JOHN FLETCHER.* 

Mr. Fletcher was a native of Nyon, in beautiful Switzer- 
land. He was born September 12th, 1729, of parents who, 
with their ancestors, were of the highest respectability. 

In very early life, he gave evidence of the possession of 
distinguished natural ability. His progress, both in his pri- 
mary studies and at the University of Geneva, secured him 
a high reputation, both for ability and scholarship. And 
when he left the University, his rare mental powers, his 
thoroughly cultivated mind, his pure, classic taste, and his 
ripe scholarship, awakened in the minds of his friends large 
expectations of his future greatness. A scholar so ripe, a 
writer so elegant, a thinker so profound, they thought could 

*The sketch of the life of Fletcher is abridged from an article in Guide to 
Holiness, by Rev. D. Wise. 



JOHN FLETCHER. 211 

hardly fail of producing a powerful impression upon the 
world. In a worldly sense, they were disappointed. In a 
spiritual and higher sense, their largest anticipations were 
more than realized ; for, as we shall see hereafter, Mr. 
Fletcher attained the summit of human greatness on earth — 
a conformity to the image of his Creator, 

The history of superior men is usually marked by peculiar 
Providences. They pass unhurt through dangers where 
others perish ; their preservation is frequently a striking 
comment on that word of God, v/hich pledges that his angels 
shall have charge over the persons of the saints. Thus 
Wesley escaped from the fire while yet a child, as by mir- 
acle ; Clark from being drowned, Newton from a hundred 
deaths by sea and land, and our endeared Fletcher, on sev- 
eral occasions, was saved from an early death only by the 
strong hand of God. Once, while fencing with his brother, 
he had his side pierced with a sword, so deep that he carried 
the scar to his grave. At another time he was lost at night, 
in an open boat, upon the lake of Geneva, and but for the 
ringing of the city bells, must have perished. Once he fell 
from a high wall, and but for a bed of mortar on the spot 
where he fell, must have been instantly killed. On no less 
than three occasions, when bathing, he had the most hair- 
breadth escapes from drowning — the last of these escapes 
amounting to a miracle ; for he was submerged among the 
piles which supported a mill, on the Rhine, for the space of 
twenty minutes, and came forth unhurt ! Surely a special 
Providence watched over the life of this remarkable man. 

Mr. Fletcher's father desired his son, above all things, to 
enter the church and to adopt the ministry as his profession. 
By a strange taste, for so serious a youth, Mr. Fletcher 
preferred the army to the church. The reason he assigned 
for this choice was characteristic. He said that his views of 



212 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the duties of a minister were so exalted, that he considered 
himself unfit to labor for God in so lofty a sphere. 

But all his efforts to procure a commission in the army 
were unavailing. The providence of God thwarted him at 
every step. At last he went to England, where he was 
invited to become tutor to the two sons of Mr. Hill, of Tern 
Hall, Herefordshire. Here he remained for more than five 
years. At the expiration of this period, he met the wishes 
of his father, and at the same time obeyed the convictions 
of his own heart by entering the ministry. He was ordained 
a deacon of the church of England on the 6th of March, 
1757, and on the following Sabbath he was set apart as a 
priest. By the influence of his friend, Mr. Hill, he was 
shortly after presented to the vicarage of Madely, which he 
conscientiously retained until his death. 

With these brief notices of the outward life of this good 
man, we proceed to examine his inward experience, and to 
trace his spiritual history from the point where he appears as 
the babe in Christ to where he attained the full stature of a 
man in Christ Jesus. 

From his earliest childhood, Mr. Fletcher was uncommonly 
serious. He possessed great quickness of conscience, a 
passionate fondness for the Scriptures, and was entirely free 
from the usual vices of boyhood and youth. When he 
reached the years of manhood his moral character was spot- 
less. Still, with all his morality and religious feeling, he 
was not a Christian until after he entered the twenty-fifth 
year of his life. 

He was awakened under a sermon preached by a Mr. 
Green. That memorable discourse convinced him that he 
was ignorant of the nature of saving faith. The feelings 
produced by this conviction were painfully severe. " I never 
had faith" was the bitter cry of his heart. He saw that 



JOHN FLETCHER. 213 

never having had faith, he had alivays been a sinner 
before God. The discovery was the more painful because 
it was unexpected. He writhed and groaned, and prayed 
and wept, and was at times almost reduced to despair. 
For several days he found no consolation. At last the 
struggle terminated in victory, under the following cir- 
cumstances : 

He dreamed that Satan had overcome him in a powerful 
temptation. He awoke in extreme agony. He approached 
the throne of grace, detesting himself with a most perfect 
self-loathing. While in prayer, his faith grew strong. He 
rose from his knees in a state of unwonted cheerfulness. He 
found himself powerful to resist temptations. Sin stirred in 
him all the day long, but he was always able to overcome it 
in the name of the Lord. By this mark he felt himself to 
be indeed a new creature. He rejoiced, but was not satisfied. 
He plead for a brighter manifestation of God's love to his 
soul. One day, as by faith, he saw his adored Saviour hang- 
ing and bleeding on the cross, these lines came with divine 
energy to his heart — 

" Seized by the rage of sinful men, 
I see Christ bound, and bruised and slain, 

'T is done — the martyr dies ! 
His life to ransom ours is given, 
And, lo! the fiercest fire of heaven 
Consumes the sacrifice. 

He suffers both from men and God, 
He bears the universal load 

Of guilt and misery ! 
He suffers to reverse our doom, 
And lo! my Lord is here become 

The bread of life to me. 

From that hour his soul was free, his confidence strong 
his joy in Christ great. From henceforth he knew nothing 
among men save Christ. He never looked back. His soul 



214 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

never knew a vjilderness state. He literally obeyed the 
apostolic exhortation, to leave the first principles of the gospel 
of Christ and go on to perfection. 

Having laid this sure foundation, Mr. Fletcher did not 
pause to indulge in any self-complacent feelings, nor sink 
into an anti-scriptural contentment with his spiritual state. 
He immediately sought a clearer manifestation; and he 
speedily obtained it. Nor did he rest here. He resolved to 
be a complete Christian. He sat himself most unalterably 
about the work of gaining a perfect likeness to Jesus Christ. 
This was the one grand idea of his life. 

It is saying much, but I think not too much, to affirm that 
no man (at least in modern times) ever gained a nearer 
resemblance to the dear Redeemer ; no man ever displaye 
more of the spirit of heaven while in the flesh, than did the 
devoted John Fletcher. Let the following testimonies to this 
assertion be carefully examined. 

Speaking of him as he appeared while superintending, for 
a short period, the Countess of Huntington's College, at 
Trevecka, in Wales, Mr. Benson, his biographer, says : 

" Here it was that I saw, shall I say, an angel in human 
flesh ? I should not far exceed the truth if I said so. But 
here I saw a descendant of fallen Adam, so fully raised 
above the ruins of the fall, that though, by the body, he was 
tied down to earth, yet was his whole conversation in heaven ; 
yet was his life, from day to day, hid with Christ in God. 
Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all ardent, elevated above 
what one would think attainable in this state of frailty, was 
the element in which he continually lived. * * * Every 
heart catched fire from the flame which burned in his soul." 

While travelling in the South of France, for. his health, 
he made a visit on foot to see the Protestants who lived in 
the Sevennes mountains. On his way, he solicited shelter 



JOHN FLETCHER. 215 

for the night at the cottage of a papist. At first he was 
refused, but finally was entertained. Such was the earnest- 
ness and devotion of his spirit there, that the cottagers were 
astonished. They had never seen such piety before. The 
next day the man reported among his neighbors, that he had 
nearly refused to admit a man into his house, who proved 
to be rather an angel than a man. 

Mr. Wesley, in speaking of his holy temper and conver- 
sation, said : " One equal to Mr. Fletcher I have not 
known, no, not in a life of fourscore years." 

Mr. Fletcher, in a letter to Charles Wesley, gives a strik- 
ing picture of his glorious spiritual state, in these words : 

" Thank God, I enjoy uninterrupted peace in the midst 
of my trials, which are sometimes not a few. Joy, also, I 
possess — I thank God, I feel myself in a good degree dead 
to praise and dispraise. I hope at least, it is so, because I 
do not feel that the one lifts me up, or that the other dejects 
me." 

Mr. Benson describes him as he appeared during a severe 
attack of illness, and when his stay on earth seemed to be 
very short, in the following strong language : 

" His immortal prospects became more enlarged and trans- 
porting, his conversation was correspondent to the grandeur 
of his views ; his whole appearance was that of a man 
already clothed in the wedding garment. There was some- 
thing in his deportment, upon these awful occasions, (i. e. in 
seasons of great weakness) which reminded me of the trans- 
figuration of his Master upon Mount Tabor. His meditations 
have been frequently accompanied with so much visible 
delight, such an ecstatic glow has diffused itself over his whole 
countenance, and his eye has been directed upward with a 
look of such inexpressible sweetness, that one would almost 
have supposed him at such seasons conversing with angelical 



216 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

spirits on his approaching dissolution, and the glory that 
should follow." 

Another witness of his manner and conversation in sick- 
ness, describes him, as saying, when speaking on his favorite 
theme — the gift of the Holy Ghost : 

" We must not be content to be only cleansed from sin ; 
we must be filled with the Spirit." 

" What," asked a friend, " is to be experienced in the full 
accomplishment of the promise ? " 

" 0," said he, evidently referring to his own experience, 
" What shall I say ? All the sweetness of the drawings of 
the Father ; all the love of the Son ; all the rich effusions of 
peace and joy in the Holy Ghost ; more than ever can be 
expressed, are comprehended here ! To attain it, the spirit 
maketh intercession with the soul like a God wrestling with 
a God." 

Speaking of his inward exercises, he once said to a friend : 
" In the beginning of my spiritual course, I heard the voice 
of God, in an inexpressibly awful sound, go through my soul 
in those words — 'If any man will be my disciple, let him 
deny himself.' " 

Describing a subsequent experience, he said : " I was 
favored, like Moses, with a supernatural discovery of the 
glory of God, in an ineffable converse with him ; so that 
whether I was there in the body or out of the body I cannot 
tell." 

A gentleman who called to see him in this same sickness, 
remarked: " I went to see a man that had one foot in the 
grave ; but I found a man that had one foot in Heaven." 

As a preacher, he had few equals. Mr. Wesley described 
him as superior to the celebrated Whitefield ; he says, com- 
paring him with Whitefield : (and Wesley was no mean 
judge,) " He (Fletcher) had a more striking person, equal 



WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 193 

Of Mr. Grimshaw as a preacher, his biographer thus 
writes : 

Though the people at Ha worth were for the most part 
extremely ignorant and stupidly irreligious, when Mr. Grim- 
shaw settled among them, the terror and energy of his 
preaching soon engaged their attention. He was pressed in 
spirit — he spoke with earnestness and authority — and "his 
labor was not in vain in the Lord." A power from on high 
applied to the heart what he would only declare to the ear. 
The effects of his plain and pungent ministry were soon visi- 
ble ; while some mocked and opposed, a growing number 
were soon distinguished, not only by a change in their views 
and sentiments, but in their tempers and conduct. Sin was 
in many instances forsaken and discountenanced ; the drunk- 
ard became sober, the idle industrious ; profaneness gave 
place to prayer, and riot to decorum. 

If his preaching had been confined to his own parish 
church, he would not have labored in vain. It might be 
said of men who heard him there, " The people who sat in 
darkness have seen a great light." They were turned from 
the power of Satan unto God. But his zeal and his desire 
to be useful to the souls of men, made him readily accept 
invitations to visit and preach in other parishes. His con- 
stitution was strong, his health firm, his spirits good, and his 
zeal ardent. He was able to bear much fatigue and hard- 
ship, and he did not spare himself. The love of Christ con- 
strained him. Without intermitting his stated service at 
home, he went much abroad. In a course of time, he 
established two circuits, which, with some occasional visita- 
tions, he usually traversed every week alternately. One of 
these he pleasantly called his idle week, because he seldom 
preached more than twelve or fourteen times. His sermons 
in his working or busy week, often exceeded twenty-four, 
and sometimes thirty. So great was the interest felt in his 
earnest and evangelical exhibitions of truth, that numbers 
flocked to his church from a great distance. He had hear- 
ers who came statedly ten or twelve miles, for years together ; 
17 



194 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and were seldom prevented, either by severe weather, or bad 
roads. 

We come now to the closing scene of this good man's 
life: 

In the spring of 1763, Haworth was visited by a putrid 
fever of which many persons died. Mr. Grimshaw had a 
strong presage upon his mind, that some one of his own fam- 
ily would be added to the number, and he repeatedly exhorted 
them all to be ready, as he knew not which of them it might 
be. As to himself, it was not for a man of his mind and 
spirit, to decline the calls of duty and affection, from any 
apprehension of danger. He caught the infection, and from 
the first of the attack, expected and welcomed the approach 
of death. He knew in whom he believed, and felt his sup- 
port in the trying hour. 

While death pointed his javelin to his heart, he beheld 
the face of this king of terrors, as it were the face of an 
angel. He said, " Never had I such a visit from God since 
I knew him." To one of his friends who asked him how he 
did, he answered, " As happy as I can be on earth, and as 
sure of glory as if I was in it." He is reported to have 
said to his housekeeper, " Mary, I have suffered last night 
what the blessed martyrs did ; my flesh has been as it were, 
roasting before a hot fire. But I have nothing to do, but 
to step out of my bed into heaven. I have my foot upon 
the threshold already. And thus he entered into the joy of 
the Lord, aged fifty-five. How can infidelity itself refrain 
from exclaiming, " Let me die the death of the righteous, 
and let my last end be like his ! " 



DAVID BRAINERD. 195 



DAVID BRAINERD. 

Brainerd, a name precious in the missionary annals of 
the Christian church, was born at Haddam, Conn., April 20, 
1718. His mind came at a very early age under the pow- 
erful operations of the Holy Spirit, and in his experience 
he afforded another illustration of the truth of that often 
repeated remark of Philip Henry, "that early Christians 
become eminent Christians." 

He thus writes in reference to his youthful convictions — 
" I was, I think, from my youth, something sober, and 
inclined to melancholy, but do not remember any conviction 
of sin worthy of remark, until I was seven or eight years of 
age, when I grew terrified at the thoughts of death, and was 
driven to the performance of religious duties : this religious 
concern was short lived. However, I sometimes attended 
secret prayer, and thus lived at ' ease in Zion,' though with- 
out God in the world, till I was about thirteen years of age. 
But in the winter of 1732, I was something roused by the 
prevailing of a mortal sickness, at Haddam. I was fre- 
quent, constant, and something fervent in duties, and took 
delight in reading, especially Mr. Janeway's ' Token for 
Children ; ' I was sometimes much melted in duties, and 
took great delight in the performance of them. The Spirit 
of God, at this time, proceeded far with me ; I was remark- 
ably dead to the world, and my thoughts were almost wholly 
employed about my soul's concerns." For some time, how- 
ever, his experience was of a fluctuating and legal character. 
He trusted too far upon his own efforts, and the strict per- 
formance of his religious duties, and as a consequence 
enjoyed little of that " peace in believing " that accompanies 
the " righteousness of faith." By degrees, however, he was 



196 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

enlightened to see, more clearly, the way of salvation, and 
fix his dependence more firmly on the merit, atonement, and 
grace of the divine Redeemer. 

Thirsting for intellectual improvement, at the age of 
twenty (his previous years, on account of limited means, 
having been spent in the pursuits of husbandry) he com- 
menced a life of studj r . But he most scrupulously attended 
at the same time to the cultivation of his heart, performing 
with the greatest punctuality the duties of religion, an obli- 
gation which he thought to be eminently incumbent upon " a 
minister and upon a candidate for the ministerial office ; " 
" and it were to be wished," remarks one of his biographers, 
" that all who assume the sacred character, felt thus con- 
cerned to maintain its real dignity." 

" Mr. Brainerd spent some time in Yale College, and 
afterwards studied under the tuition of Mr. Mills, at Ripton. 
Having resolved upon becoming a missionary, he immedi- 
ately began to prepare himself for the arduous task. At 
this time he gave a most striking proof of the disinterested- 
ness of his motives, and of his entire devotedness to the 
cause of God. Having a small estate bequeathed him by 
his father, he generously determined to educate, for the min- 
istry, some young person of abilities and piety. Such an 
one he found, whom he denominated ' a dear friend,' and as 
long as he lived, he supported him at college." 

Having finished his studies, he commenced his labors 
among the Indians, and was ordained at Newark, N. J., June 
11, 1743. His efforts were unremitted, accompanied with the 
utmost self-sacrifice, and privation, and for a long time were 
apparently unsuccessful. "To an eye of reason," he writes, 
" every thing that respects the conversion of the heathen is 
dark as midnight ; yet I cannot but hope in God for the 
accomplishment of something glorious among them." He 



DAVID BRAINERD. 197 

writes again to a friend, in reference to his prospects, " I 
am in a very poor state of health ; but through divine good 
ness I am not discontented ; I bless God for this sentiment ! 
I never was more thankful for any thing, than I have been 
of late for the necessity I am under of self-denial. I love 
to be a stranger and a pilgrim in this wilderness : it seems 
most fit for a poor, ignorant, worthless creature such as I am. 
I would not change my present condition for any other busi- 
ness in the whole world. I may tell you freely, that God 
has of late given me great freedom and fervency in prayer, 
when I have been so weak and feeble that my nature seemed 
as if it would speedily dissolve. I feel as if my all was lost, 
and I was undone, if the poor heathen be not converted. I 
feel different from what I did when I saw you last — more 
crucified to all the enjoyments of life. It would be very 
refreshing to me to see you. here in this desert ; especially 
in my most disconsolate hours ; but I could be content never 
to see you, or any of my friends again, in this world, if 
God would bless my labors to the conversion of the poor 

Indians." 

And, indeed, God's blessing came down wonderfully upon 
his labors. The besotted and ignorant heathen, who had 
listened without apparent interest or feeling to his impas- 
sioned discourses, now melted under the word of life. The 
breaking out of this revival was one of the most remarkable 
results of missionary labor recorded in modern times. 

" I preached," says Brainerd, on one occasion, " to about 
fifty-five persons, from 1 John iv. 10, — ' Herein is love,' &c. 
They seemed eager in hearing ; but there appeared nothing 
very remarkable till near the close of my discourse, and then 
divine truth was attended with a surprising influence. There 
was scarce three in forty who could refrain from tears and 
bitter cries. They all as one seemed in an agony of soul to 
17* 



198 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

obtain an interest in Christ ; and the more I discoursed of 
the love and compassion of God, in sending his Son to suffer 
for the sins of men, and the more I invited them to come 
and partake of his love, the more their distress was aggra- 
vated. It was surprising to see how their hearts were 
grieved by the tender invitations of the gospel, when there 
was not a word of terror spoken to them. I asked two per- 
sons, who had obtained comfort, what they wanted God 
farther to do for them. They replied, that ' they wanted 
Christ to wipe their hearts quite clean.' " 

This glorious revival took place at Crossweeksung in 
N. J., and the work of God continued for considerable time, 
the converts standing fast in their spiritual liberty. " At 
another time when he was preaching to about seventy per- 
sons, many of whom had been drunkards, conjurers, and 
murderers, he assures us, such strong and pungent convic- 
tions, and tender emotions filled the whole audience, that 
scarcely an individual appeared unmoved. And ' Guttum- 
maukalummeh, guttummaukalummeh,' ' Have mercy upon 
me, have mercy upon me,' was the general cry. It was 
affecting to see the poor Indians, who the other day were 
yelling in their idolatrous feasts, now crying to God with 
such importunity for an interest in his dear Son ! A consid- 
erable number were baptized, joined in Christian fellowship, 
and continued to adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour." 

Brainerd had hardly begun to enjoy the blessed success 
with which God had crowned his labors, ere he was called to 
the heavenly approbation and reward of his Master in the 
eternal world. Obliged to discontinue his preaching, he 
returned to New England, and spent his last days in the 
house of Dr. Jonathan Edwards. " I had," says Dr. E., 
" much opportunity, before this, of particular information 
concerning him, but now I had opportunity for a more full 



DAVID BRAINERD. 199 

acquaintance with him. I found him remarkably sociable, 
pleasant, and entertaining in his conversation ; yet solid, 
savory, spiritual, and very profitable : appearing meek, 
modest, and humble ; far from any stiffness, moroseness, 
superstitious demureness, or affected singularity in speech or 
behavior. We enjoyed not only the benefit of his conversa- 
tion, but had the comfort of his prayers from time to time." 
The following sketch of his final hours is from the pen of 
Dr. Edwards. Daring the whole of the last two weeks 
of his life, he seemed to continue in this frame of heart, 
loose from all the world, as having done his work, and done 
with all things here below, having nothing to do but to die, 
and abiding in an earnest desire and expectation of the 
happy moment, when his soul should take its flight, and go 
to a state of perfection of holiness and perfect glorifying and 
enjoying God, manifested in a variety of expressions. He 
said, " That the consideration of the day of death, and the 
day of judgment, had a long time been peculiarly sweet to 
him." He from time to time spoke of his being willing to 
leave the body and the world immediately, that day, that 
night, that moment, if it was the will of God. He was also 
much in expressing his longings that the church jf Christ on 
earth might flourish, and Christ's kingdom here might be 
advanced, notwithstanding he was aboiit to leave the earth, 
and should not with his eyes behold the desirable event, nor 
be instrumental in promoting it. He said to me one morning 
as I came into the room, " My thoughts have been employed 
upon the dear old theme, the prosperity of God's church on 
earth. As I waked out of sleep, I was led to cry for the 
pouring out of God's Spirit, and the advancement of Christ's 
kingdom, which the dear Redeemer died and suffered so 
much for. It is that especially makes me long for it." He 
expressed much hope that a glorious advancement of Christ's 



200 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

kingdom was near at hand. He expressed on his death-bed 
a full persuasion that he should in heaven see the prosper- 
ity of the church on earth, and should rejoice with Christ 
therein ; and the consideration of it seemed to be highly 
pleasing and satisfying to his mind. The spiritual prosperity 
of his own congregation of Christian Indians in New Jersey, 
lay much on his heart, and when he spoke of them it was 
with such peculiar tenderness that his speech would pre- 
sently be interrupted and drowned with tears. 

September 28, he was supposed to be dying : he thought so 
himself, and it was thought so by those that were about him. 
He seemed glad of the appearance of the near approach of 
death. He was almost speechless, but his lips appeared to 
move : and one that sat very near him, heard him utter such 
expressions as these — " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." 
"0, why is his chariot so long in coming ! " After he 
revived, he blamed himself for having been too eager to be 
gone. And in expressing what he found in the frame of his 
mind at that time, he said, he then found an inexpressibly 
sweet love to those that he looked upon as belonging to 
Christ, beyond almost all that ever he felt before ; so that it 
" seemed (to use his own words) like a little piece of heaven 
to have one of them near to him." And being asked 
whether he heard the prayer that was (at his desire) made 
with him, he said, " Yes, he heard every word, and had an 
uncommon sense of the things that were uttered in that 
prayer, and that every word reached his heart." 

On the evening of the next day, viz. : Tuesday, September 
29th, as he lay in his bed, he seemed to be in an extra- 
ordinary frame ; his mind greatly engaged in sweet medita- 
tions concerning the prosperity of Zion ; there being present 
"lere at that time two young gentlemen of his acquaintance, 
that were candidates for the ministry, he desired us all to 



DAVID BRAINERD. 201 

unite in singing a psalm on that subject, even Zion's pros- 
perity. And, on his desire, we sung a part of the 102d 
Psalm. This seemed much to refresh and revive him, and 
give him new strength ; so that, though before he could 
scarcely speak at all, now he proceeded, with some freedom 
of speech, to give his dying counsels to those two young 
gentlemen, relating to their preparation for, and prosecution 
of, that great work of the ministry they were designed for; 
and particularly earnestly recommended to them frequent 
secret fasting and prayer : and enforced his counsel with 
regard to this, from his own experience of the great comfort 
and benefit of it ; which (said he) I should not mention, 
were it not that I am a dying person. 

Till now, he had every day set up part of the day ; but 
after this he never rose from his bed. 

On the morning of Lord's day, October 4th, as my 
daughter (who chiefly tended him) came into the room, he 
looked on her very pleasantly, and said, " Dear Jerusha, 
are you willing to part with me ? — I am quite willing to 
part with you ; I am willing to part with all my friends ; I 
am willing to part with my dear brother John, although I 
love him the best of airy creature living ; I have committed 
him and all my friends to God, and can leave them with 
God. Though, if I thought I should not see 3*011, and be 
happy with you in another world, I could not bear to part 
with you. But we shall spend a happy eternity together ! " 
In the evening, as one came into the room with a Bible in 
her hand, he expressed himself thus : "Oh, that dear book ! 
that lovely book ! I shall soon see it opened ! the mysteries 
that are in it, and the mysteries of God's providence, will 
all be unfolded ! " 

October Gth. He lay, for a considerable time, as if he 
were dying. At which time he was heard to utter, in broken 



202 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

whispers, such expressions as these : " He will come, he will 
not tarry. I shall soon be in glory — I shall soon glorify 
God with the angels." But after some time he revived. 

Thursday, October 8th, he was in great distress and 
agonies of body ; and for the bigger part of the day, he was 
much disordered as to the exercise of his reason. In the 
evening he was more composed, and had the use of his 
reason well ; but the pain of his body continued and in- 
creased. He told me it was impossible for any body to 
conceive the distress he felt in his breast. He manifested 
much concern lest he should dishonor God by impatience, 
under his extreme agony ; which was such, that, he said, 
the thought of enduring it one minute longer was almost 
insupportable. He desired that others should be much in 
lifting up their hearts continually to God for him, that God 
would support him and give him patience. He signified 
that he expected to die that night, but seemed to fear a long 
delay ; and the disposition of his mind with regard to death 
appeared still the same that it had been all along. And 
notwithstanding his bodily agonies, yet the interest of Zion 
lay still with great weight upon his heart, as appeared by 
some considerable discourse he had that evening; with the 
Rev. Mr. Billing, one of the neighboring ministers (who was 
then present,) concerning the great importance of the work 
of the ministry, &c. And afterwards, when it was very late 
in the night, he had much very proper and profitable dis- 
course with his brother John, concerning his congregation in 
New Jersey, and the interest of religion among the Indians. 
In the latter part of the night his bodily distress seemed to 
rise to a greater height than ever, and he said to those then 
about him, that " it was another thing to die ' than people 
imagined;" explaining himself to mean that they were not 
aware what bodily pain and anguish is undergone before 



II. HOTJSMAN. 203 

death. Towards day his eyes fixed ; and he continued 
immoveable till about six o'clock in the morning, and then 
expired, on Friday, October 9th, 1T47, when his soul, as we 
may w T ell conclude, was received by his dear Lord and 
Master, as an eminently faithful servant, into the state of 
perfection of holiness and fruition of God, which he had so 
often and so ardently longed for ; and was welcomed by the 
glorious assembly in the upper world, as one peculiarly fitted 
to join them in their blessed employments and enjoyments. 

" Now safe arrives the heavenly mariner; 
The battering storm, the hurricane of life, 
All dies away in one eternal calm. 
With joy divine full glowing in his breast, 
He gains, he gains the port of everlasting rest." 



H. HOUSMAN 



Mrs. Housman was born at Kidderminster, England, and 
was early instructed in the paths of true wisdom by devoted 
parents. When thirteen years of age she seems to have 
experienced the renovoting influences of the Holy Spirit, 
and from that period until the close of her life she sought to 
" walk with God," and by faith in her Redeemer, to enjoy 
continually a knowledge of her adoption into the heavenly 
family. Her death took place in 1735. 

No lengthened biography of her holy life remains — it is 
recorded on high — but the following interesting account of 
her last sickness and triumphant death was prepared by one 
who was with her during the whole progress of her disease, 
and witnessed its blessed termination. 



204 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

From the time of her first seizure, she was exercised with 
very violent pains, without any intermission till her death ; 
such as, she would often say, she thought she could not have 
borne: " But," said she, "God is good; verily he is good 
to me ! Through life I have found him a good and gracious 
God." 

When recovering from extreme pain she said, " God is 
good ; I have found him so ; and though he slay me, yet I 
will trust in him. These pains make me love my Lord Jesus 
the better. 0, they put me in mind of what he suffered, to 
purchase salvation for my poor soul ! Why for me, Lord ! 
why for me, the greatest of sinners ? Why for me, who so 
long refused the rich offers of.thy grace, and the kind invita- 
tions of the gospel ? How many helps and means have I 
enjoyed more than many others ; yea, above most ! I had 
a religious father and mother ; and I had access to a valu- 
able minister, to whom I could often and freely open my 
mind. I have lived in a golden age. I have lived in peace- 
able times, and have enjoyed great advantages and helps for 
communion with God, and the peace of my own mind ; for 
which I owe my gracious God and Father more praises than 
words can express. Bless the Lord, my soul, and all that 
is within me bless his holy name ! Bless the Lord, my 
soul, and forget not all, or any, of his benefits ! " 

When any were weeping and mourning over her, she 
would say, " Weep not for me : it is the will of God ; there- 
fore be content. If it may be for his honor and glory he 
will spare me a little longer ; if not, I am wholly resigned 
to the will of God. I am content to stay here, as long as 
he has any thing for me to do, or to suffer ; and I am willing 
to go, if it be my Father's good pleasure. Therefore be 
content, and say, c It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth 
to him good.' " 






JOHN FLETCHER. 217 

good breeding, and equally winning address, together with a 
richer flow of fancy, a stronger understanding, a far greater 
treasure of learning, and above all, a more deep and constant 
communion with the Father, and with the Son Jesus Christ.'' 

It is also quite certain that his preaching attracted great 
notice. Not only in his own quiet parish of Madely, but in 
the various parts of England and Ireland which he occasion- 
ally visited in company with Mr. Wesley. So also in his 
native country, and in France, multitudes flocked to hear 
the Word of God from his holy and eloquent lips. It is true 
his remarkable faithfulness offended many, and caused his 
exclusion from the pulpits of dead churches ; but whoever 
felt offended at his plainness, none could deny him their meed 
of praise as a preacher of distinguished ability — he was so 
eminently successful in winning souls to Christ. 

Mr. Fletcher was married somewhat late in life, to a saint 
almost as eminent in piety as himself, Miss Bosanquet. In 
no part of his experience does his piety shine with a brighter 
lustre than in his marriage. He was as spiritual and devo- 
tional on the day of the ceremony as at any period of his 
life. If possible, his faithfulness to God was increased by 
this connection, and many of his friends, who thought the 
marriage state unfavorable to an exalted piety, were con- 
vinced by his example of the error of their opinion. In 
marriage, as before, holiness to the Lord was written on his 
whole character. The same remark is equally applicable to 
his sainted wife. 

His death, as might be anticipated, was heavenly in the 
extreme. The account of his final hours, so full of glorious 
triumph, is thus given by Mr. Benson, his biographer. On 
Thursday, August 4th, 1785, he was employed in the work 
of God from three in the afternoon till nine at night. When 
he came home he said, " I have taken cold ; " but seemed 
19 



218 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

not to regard it. Ho was far from well on Friday and 
Saturday ; but was uncommonly drawn out in prayer. On 
Saturday he was abundantly worse, and his fever appeared 
very strong. I begged that he would by no means think of 
going to the church in the morning. But he told me it was 
the will of the Lord ; in which case I never dared to persuade. 
The Rev. Mr. Gilpin, as he has informed us, called upon 
him in the morning, with an earnest request that he would 
permit him, if not to take the whole of his duty on that day, 
at least to share it with him. But this he would by no 
means be prevailed upon to suffer, assuring him with an air 
of holy confidence, that God would sufficiently strengthen 
him to go through the duties of the day. This was his last 
appearance in public ; and several who were present upon this 
memorable occasion were affected, beyond all description, 
with the melancholy circumstances of the day. He opened 
the reading service with apparent strength : but before he 
had proceeded far in it, his countenance changed, his speech 
began to falter, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he 
could keep himself from fainting. Every eye was riveted 
upon him, deep solicitude was painted on every face, and 
confused murmurs of distress ran through the whole congre- 
gation. In the midst of this affecting scene, Mrs. Fletcher 
was seen pressing through the crowd, and earnestly entreat- 
ing her dying husband no longer to attempt what appeared 
to be utterly impracticable. But he, as if conscious that he 
was engaged in his last public work, mildly refused to be . 
entreated ; and struggling against an almost insupportable 
languor, constrained himself to continue the service. The 
windows being opened, he appeared to be a little refreshed, 
and began to preaeh with a strength and recollection that, 
surprised all present. In the course of his sermon the idea 
of his weakness was almost lost in the freedom and energy 



JOHN FLETCHER. 219 

■with which he delivered himself. Mercy was the subject of 
his discourse ; and while he expatiated on this glorious 
attribute of the Deity, its unsearchable extent, its eternal 
duration, and its astonishing effects, he appeared to be car- 
ried above all the feelings and fears of mortality. There 
was something in his appearance and manner that gave his 
word an irresistible influence upon this solemn occasion. An 
awful concern was awakened through the whole assembly, 
and every one's heart was uncommonly moved. Upon the 
hearts of his friends, in particular, a most affecting impres- 
sion was made at this season; and what deepened that 
impression was the sad presentiment, which they read in 
each other's countenance, of their pastor's approaching 
dissolution. 

After sermon he walked up to the communion table, utter- 
ing these words : "I am going to throw myself under the 
wings of the cherubim, before the mercy seat." Here the 
same distressing scene was renewed with additional solem- 
nity. The people were deeply affected while they beheld 
him offering up the languid remains of a life that had been 
lavishly spent in their service. Groans and tears were 
on every side. In going through this last part of his duty, 
he was exhausted again, and again ; but his spiritual vigor 
triumphed over his bodily weakness. After several times 
sinking on the sacramental table, he still resumed his sacred 
work, and distributed with his dying hand the loved memo- 
rials of his dying Lord. In the course of this concluding 
office, which he performed by means of the most astonishing 
exertions, he gave out several verses of hymns, and deliv- 
ered many affectionate exhortations to his people, calling 
upon them, at intervals, to celebrate the mercy of God in 
short songs of adoration and praise. And now, having 
struggled through a service of near four hours' continuance, 



220 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

he "was supported, "with blessings in his mouth, from the altar 
to his chamber, where he lay for some time in a swoon, and 
from whence he never walked into the world again. 

After this, proceeds Mrs. Fletcher, he dropped into a 
sleep for some time, and, on waking, cried out with a pleas- 
ant smile, " Now, my dear, thou seest I am no worse for 
doing the Lord's work. He never fails me when I trust in 
him." Having eaten a little dinner, he dozed most of the 
evening, now and then waking up with the praises of God in 
his mouth. On Monday and Tuesday we had a little para- 
dise together. He lay on a couch in the study ; and though 
often changing posture, was sweetly pleasant, and frequently 
slept a good while at a time. When he was awake, he 
delighted in hearing me read to him treatises on faith and 
love. His words were all animating, and his patience beyond 
expression. When he had a very nauseous medicine to take, 
he seemed to enjoy the cross, according to a word which he was 
used often to repeat, " We are to seek a perfect conformity 
to the will of God ; and leave him to give us pleasure or 
pain, as it seemeth him good." 

I asked him whether he had any directions to give me if 
he should be taken from me ? since I desired to form my 
whole life thereby. He replied, " No, not by mine : the 
Holy Ghost shall direct thee. I have nothing particular to 
say." I said, Have you any conviction that God is about 
to take you ? He said, "No; only I always see death so 
inexpressibly near, that we both seem to stand on the verge 
of eternity." Awaking some time after, he said, " Polly, I 
have been thinking it was Israel's fault that they asked for 
signs. We will not do so : but abandoning our whole selves 
to the will of God, will lie patiently before him ; assured that 
he will do all things well." My dear love, said I, if I have 
ever done or said any thing to grieve thee, how will the 



JOHN FLETCHER. 221 

remembrance wound my heart if thou shouldst be taken from 
me ! He entreated me with inexpressible tenderness, not to 
allow the thought, declaring his thankfulness for our union, 
in a variety of words written on my heart with the adaman- 
tine pen of friendship deeply dipped in blood. 

On Wednesday, he told me he had received such a man- 
ifestation of the fall meaning of these words, Grod is love, as 
he could never be able to express. " It fills my heart," 
said he, " every moment ; Polly, my dear Polly, God is 
love ! Shout ! shout aloud ! I want a gust of praise to go 
to the ends of the earth ! But it seems as if I could not 
speak much longer. Let us fix on a sign between ourselves. 
Now," said he, tapping me twice with his finger, " I mean, 
God is love. And we will draw each other into God. 
Observe ! By this we will draw each other into God." 

Sally coming in, he cried out, " Sally, God is love ! 
Shout, both of you ! I want to hear you shout his praise !" 
All this time the medical friend, who attended him dili- 
gently, hoped he was in no danger ; as he had no head ache, 
but much sleep, without the least delirium, and an almost 
regular pulse. 

On Thursday his speech began to fail. While he was 
able, he spoke to all that came in his way. Hearing that a 
stranger was in the house, he ordered her to be called up. 
But the uttering only two sentences made him ready to faint 
away. And while he had any power of speech, he would 
not be silent to his friendly doctor. " 0, Sir," said he, 
" you take much thought of my body ; permit me to take 
thought for your soul!" I spoke these words — God is 
love. Instantly, as if all his powers were awakened, he 
broke out in a rapture, " God is love ! love ! love ! for 
that gust of praise. I want to sound ! " Here his voice 
again failed. All this time he was in much pain, and suf- 
19* 



222 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

fered many ways ; but still with such unutterable patience, 
as none but those who were present can conceive. If I did 
but name his sufferings, he would smile and make the sign. 

On Friday, observing his body covered with spots, I felt 
a sword pierce through my soul. As I was kneeling by his 
side, with my hand in his, entreating the Lord to be with us 
in this tremendous hour, he strove to say many things, but 
could not articulate the words. All he could do was to 
press my hand, and frequently repeat the sign. At last he 
breathed out, " Head of the church, be head to my wife ! " 

He always took a peculiar pleasure in repeating or hearing 
these words : — 

" Jesus' blood through earth and skies, 
Mercy, free, boundless mercy cries." 

Whenever I repeated them to him, he would answer, 
" Boundless ! boundless ! boundless I " He now added, 
though not without much difficulty, 

" Mercy's full power I soon shall prove, 
Loved with an everlasting love." 

On Saturday in the afternoon, his fever seemed to be 
quite off, and a few friends standing near his bed, he reached 
his hand to each: and looking on a minister, said, " Are you 
ready to assist to-morrow ? " His recollection surprised us, 
as the day of the week had not been named in the room. 
Many were of opinion he would recover ; and one of them 
said to him, "Do you think the Lord will raise you up? " 
He strove to answer, and could just pronounce, " Raise me 
up in the resur — " meaning in the resurrection. To 
another who asked the same question, he said, " I leave it 
all to God." 

In the evening the fever came again, and with greater 
violence than before. As night drew on, I perceived him 
dying very fast. His fingers could hardly make the sign, 



JOHN FLETCHER. 223 

•which he scarce ever forgot, and his speech seemed quite 
gone. I said, " My dear creature, I ask not for myself: I 
know thy soul : but for the sake of others, if Jesus be very 
present with thee, lift up thy right hand. Immediately he 
did. If the prospect of glory sweetly open before thee, 
repeat the sign. He instantly raised it again, and in half a 
minute, a second time. He then threw it up, as if he would 
reach the top of the bed. After this his hands moved no 
more. But on my saying, Art thou in pain ? he answered, 
" No." From this time he lay in a kind of sleep, though 
with his eyes open and fixed. For the most part he sat 
upright against pillows, with his head a little inclining to one 
side. And so remarkably composed, yea, triumphant was 
his countenance, that the least trace of death was scarcely 
discernible in it. Eighteen hours he was in this situation, 
breathing like a person in common sleep. About thirty- 
five minutes past ten, on Sunday night, August 14, his 
precious soul entered into the joy of his Lord, without one 
struggle or groan, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. 

During the Sabbath, " while," says Mr. Gilpin, " their 
pastor was breathing out his soul into the hands of a faithful 
Creator, his people were offering up their joint supplications 
on his behalf in the house of God. Little, however, was seen 
among them on that trying occasion, but affliction and tears. 
Indeed, it was a clay much to be remembered for the many 
affecting testimonies of distress which appeared on every 
side. The whole village wore an air of consternation and 
sadness, and not one joyful song was heard among all its 
inhabitants. Hasty messengers were passing to and fro, 
with anxious inquiries and confused reports : and the mem- 
bers of every family sat together in silence that day, awaiting 
with trembling expectation, the issue of every hour. After 
the conclusion of the evening service, several of the poor, 



224 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

who came from distant parts, and who were usually enter- 
tained under Mr. Fletcher's roof, still lingered about the 
house, and seemed unable to tear themselves away from the 
place without a sight of their expiring pastor. Secretly 
informed of their desire, I obtained them the permission they 
wished. And the door of the chamber being set open, 
immediately before which Mr. Fletcher was sitting upright 
in his bed, with the curtains undrawn, unaltered in his usual 
venerable appearance, they slowly moved one by one along 
the gallery, severally pausing as they passed by the door, 
and casting in a look of mingled supplication and anguish. 
It was indeed an affecting sight, to behold these unfeigned 
mourners presenting themselves before the bed of their dying 
benefactor, with an inexpressible eagerness in their looks, 
and then dragging themselves away from his presence with 
a distressing consciousness that they should see his face no 
more. 



MARY FLETCHER. 

This eminently pious woman, a fit consort for that holy 
man, the Rev. John Fletcher, was born at Laytonstone, in 
Essex, in 1739. Her parents were highly respectable and 
wealthy members of the Church of England. At a very 
early age she was the subject of religious impressions, and 
when about ten obtained a comfortable evidence of the for- 
giveness of her sins, through faith in Christ. . Her deep 
anxiety in reference to her spiritual interests led her, from 
the hour of her conversion, to seek out opportunities for 



MARY FLETCHER. 225 

intercourse and communion with the, most eminently pious 
persons in the vicinity of her residence. Many of these 
were members of the societies lately formed by Mr. Wesley 
and his assistants, and bearing the name of Methodists. 
Miss Bosanquet (her maiden name) eagerly drunk into the 
spirit of her pious friends, and was soon led into larger and 
deeper experiences of the " grace of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
The change induced by this in her manners, dress, and whole 
course of life, was not pleasing to her parents, whose views 
of the requirements of religion were far less self-denying, 
and more indulgent of worldly appetites. Although sub- 
jected to no painful restraints or persecutions, her residence 
became so unpleasant to herself and her parents, that at the 
age of twenty-one, having a small fortune coming to herself, 
she hired rooms at a friend's, and removed thither; from this 
time devoting herself and substance entirely to the service 
of her Redeemer. 

About a year after this, a house belonging to her estate 
becoming vacant in her native town — Laytonstone — she 
moved thither, and, in the midst of her other duties and 
charities, collected under her hospitable roof, several orphan 
children, with whose education and well-being, she charged 
herself. Her income was found to be too narrow a limit for 
her benevolence, but the providence of God never failed her 
in any of the adventures of faith she undertook. By encour- 
aging and generous friends assisting, from time to time, she 
was enabled to continue her labors of love towards the home- 
less and orphaned children that gathered around her hospita- 
ble door. During, however, the fourteen years she struggled 
with the cares and perplexities of managing so large a family, 
(sometimes amounting to thirty,) her own property was 
almost entirely expended, and her health often periled ; but 
her faith and patience never failed her, and the Lord failed 



226* THE EMINENT DEAD. 

not to redeem his promise to his praying children in her 
behalf. 

In 1781 , when forty-two years old, having accepted the 
hand of the pious Fletcher, of Madely, she closed up all her 
temporal concerns, devoting all the income of her property 
to the dispersed members of her family, save a small annual 
stipend to herself. 

Rarely are two souls so nearly alike in all their tastes to 
be found in this world, and more rarely are they found united 
to each other. No married couple, perhaps, ever loved each 
other more tenderly, none have ever been more single in 
their purposes, 'more devoted to acts of piety, more wrapt in 
a Saviour's love. Joyful indeed is the diary of Mrs. Fletcher 
at this time, and it continues a song of triumph, until within 
less than four years, it pleased God to take this holy and 
beloved man, in a chariot of fire, to heaven. It was a 
severe and, at first, overwhelming stroke, but the glorious 
triumph vouchsafed at his death, a certain re-union in 
heaven, and the positive consolations of the Comforter sup- 
ported her in this most trying. hour. 

" Last night," says she, " I had a peculiar sense of that 
truth, ' Thy Maker is thy husband.' I saw great depth in 
that declaration. The thought of belonging only to Jesus 
was precious ! These words were powerfully on my mind : 

" ' Be bold in Jesus to confide, 

His creature and his spotless bride ! 

Thy husband's power and goodness prove. 
The Holy One of Israel, he ! 
The Lord of hosts, hath chosen thee, 
In faith, and holiness, and love ! ' " 

For thirty years after this bereavement, it pleased God to 
lengthen out the life of this eminently pious lady. The 
mantle of her husband seemed to have fallen upon her, and 
she labored in the parish of Madely, to supply, as far as she 



MARY FLETCHER. 227 

could, the great vacancy made by the removal of so devoted 
a minister. 

August 14th, she writes : " Thirty years, this day, I 
drank the bitter cup, and closed the eyes of my beloved 
husband ; and now I am myself in a dying state. Lord, 
prepare me ! I feel death very near. My soul doth wait, 
and long to fly to the bosom of my God ! Come, my ador- 
able Saviour ! I lie at thy feet ; I long for all thy fulness ! 

" September 12th. This day I am seventy-six years old, 
and the same day my dear husband would have been eighty- 
six. Surely we shall remember the scenes we have had 
together. But, my God, give me power to cleave to thee 
every moment ! I feel the powers of darkness are vehe- 
mently striving to distract and hinder me. 0, my God and 
Father, enable me to walk in thy constant presence ! 
Jesus, Jesus ! fill me with thy love, pour out thy Spirit 
abundantly upon me, and make my heart thy constant 
home ! " 

" October 26th. I have had a bad night ; but asking 
help of the Lord for a closer communion, my precious Lord 
applied that word, I have bourne thy sins in my own body on 
the tree. I felt his presence. I seem very near death : 
but I long to fly into the arms of my beloved Lord. I feel 
his loving kindness surrounds me." 

This was the last entry in her journal. On the 9th of 
the succeeding December, she died. 

The account of her last illness is thus given' by her friend 
uid companion, Miss Tooth.* 

For the last month of Mrs. Fletcher's life, her breath 
was more oppressed than usual ; it had been much affected 
for some years upon motion ; yet, when she sat still or laid 
down at night, she could breathe quite easy. But in tho 

* Benson's Life of Mrs. Fletcher. 



228 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

middle of November, her breathing was affected, both while 
she sat still, and when she was laid down. She had also a 
very troublesome cough. By these her strength quickly 
declined. She had a wound for two years and three quar- 
ters in one side of her left breast, which was, at first, sup- 
posed to be a cancer : but her sufferings from this were not 
to be compared with what she suffered from the difficulty of 
breathing. Yet she would speak to the people, though, as 
she said, " It is like as if every meeting would take away 
my life ; but I will speak to them while I have any breath.' ' 

One day when her sufferings were very great, she said, 
" How sweet are the words of the apostle, ' The sufferings 
of this life are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
that should follow.' " And on the 11th of November she 
mentioned the divine aid she found in these words, " Call 
upon me in the time of trouble ; so will I hear thee, and 
thou shalt glorify me ; " these words she frequently repeated, 
and sometimes would add, " Yes, my Lord, I will call upon 
thee; and I shall glorify thee too." 

Another time she said with peculiar energy, " They that 
trust in the Lord shall never be confounded." She added, 
also, with much animation in her countenance, " That promise 
given me so many years ago now comes with fresh power, 
' Thou shalt walk with me in white.' And that also ' I will 
thoroughly purge away thy dross, and take away thy tin.' " 
She added — 

" Everlasting life is won, 
Glory is on earth begun." 

On the 18th of November she often repeated, with much 
animation, 

" I am thine, and thou art mine, 
A bond eternal hath us joined." 

Indeed the goodness of God, and the great things that faith 



MARY FLETCHER. 229 

will do, were subjects on which she delighted to dwell. I 
have often heard her say, the particular commission the Lord 
had given her was to encourage souls to believe ; and herein 
she certainly was greatly blessed to many. 

On the 23d, she many times repeated these words, which 
she said came to her with unusual sweetness in the night — 

" Thy righteousness wearing, and cleansed by thy blood, 
Bold shall I appear in the presence of God." 

All this day she had a great degree of fever upon her, 
yet she would sometimes say to me, " What were the sweet 
words the Lord gave me last night ? " As soon as I pro- 
nounced the first word, she would go on with the rest, and 
add, " I feel the power of them, though my head is so con- 
fused with this fever, that I could not immediately recollect 
them." 

On the 6th of December, while looking on me with the 
tenderest affection, she said, " My faithful friend, my dearest 
friend, ten thousand blessings on her head." She continued 
also to cry to God for a blessing upon several persons whom 
she mentioned ; and upon all her relations : though they 
were so far from her in body, they were to the last interested 
in her prayers ; and she would frequently plead with the 
Lord, that one day she might meet with them in glory. 

From the beginning of December, she dozed much, when- 
ever the cough and the oppression upon her breath would 
allow her any ease. This she often complained of, saying, 
" I lose my time ; I want every moment spent in prayer or 
praise." 

On the same day, when waking out of a doze, she said, 

" I am drawing near to glory ; " and soon after, " There is 

my house and portion fair ; " and again, " Jesus, come, my 

hope of glory:" and, after a short pause, "He lifts his 

20 



230 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

hands and shows that I am graven there." The two follow- 
ing days were indeed days of love and praise. 

The day following, the 8th, her breathing was exceedingly 
difficult. In the morning she had walked into the other room, 
as usual, with only the help of my arm. In the middle of 
the day she wished to go into the chamber again, and I led 
her as at other times ; but she was now weaker, and I could 
scarcely keep her from falling. I therefore asked her to sit 
down in a chair, which she did, and I wheeled her back again. 
All the afternoon she was extremely ill, either hot to a great 
degree, shivering with cold, or very drowsy ; but through all, 
her mouth was full of the loving kindness of the Lord. 

At night she said she would not go to bed till after ten 
o'clock. We prayed together before we went into the 
chamber ; but her breath being so greatly oppressed, she 
prayed but a short time. When I concluded, she said it 
was a very comfortable time ; and having heard in the after- 
noon that Dr. Yonge, (who had always shown her the greatest 
attention,) was ill, she prayed particularly for him. 

When we were ready to go into the chamber, I got her 
into the chair, but she was now weaker than at noon. How- 
ever, I wheeled her to the bedside, and could not but look 
upon her as dying ; and indeed so she considered herself, for 
when in bed, she said, " My love, this is the last time I shall 
get into bed ; it has been hard work to get in, but it is work 
I shall do no more. This oppression upon my breath cannot 
last long ; but all is well. The Lord will shower down ten 
thousand blessings upon thee, my tender nurse, my kind 
friend." 

After these and many more kind expressions to the same 
effect, she desired I should make haste to bed. ■ After I had 
made all the excuses I could for remaining up and looking 
upon her dear countenance as long as her kind concern for 






MARY FLETCHER. 231 

me would admit, she again urged my going to bed ; and I 
therefore laid down without undressing, within the bed- 
clothes. She then asked, "Are you in bed, my love ?" I 
answered, " Yes." She then said, "That's right, — now if 
I can rest, I will ; but let our hearts be united in prayer, 
and the Lord bless both thee and me ! " 

These were the last words her beloved lips uttered; for 
some time after this, about one o'clock in the morning of 
December 9th, the noise her breath had made ceased. I 
thought, Is she dropped asleep ? It immediately came to 
my mind, "Asleep in Jesus ! See, a soul escaped to bliss." I 
went directly to her bedside, where I found the beloved body 
without the immortal spirit, which had entered the realms of 
endless day. Her countenance was as sweet a one as was 
ever seen in death. There was, at the last, neither sigh, 
groan, or struggle ; and she had all the appearances of a 
person in the most composed slumber. The moment she had 
so much longed for had arrived, — the happy moment when 
she should gain the blissful shore, and 

" See the Lamb in glory stand, 
Encircled with his radiant band, 

And join the angelic powers. 
Ml that height of glorious bliss, 
Her everlasting portion is, — 
And all that heaven is ours." 



232 THE EMINENT DEAD, 



ROBERT SIMPSON, D. D .* 

Robert Simpson, D. D. was born at the farm-house of 
Little Tillerye, near Milnathort, in Kinrosshire, Scotland, 
February 15, 1746. Losing his father when about thirteen 
years of age, he was necessitated to engage in secular pur- 
suits. The two eldest children, of whom the Doctor was 
one, were, after a time, taken to live with their maternal 
grandmother, at Balcanqual, in Strathmeglo ; a woman of 
distinguished eminence for piety. It is probable, that during 
his residence with her, he was occupied either in tending the 
sheep, or in other duties which accorded with his age and 
strength. He is described by a relative as being at this 
period " a volatile young creature," and as at times afford- 
ing early proofs of superior genius and capacity. In the 
year 1764, he bound himself apprentice to a dyer at Dum- 
fermline, where, impelled by a native ambition, and a desire 
to excel in whatever he undertook, he applied himself with 
great assiduity to acquire a knowledge of his trade. He 
also discovered, at this time, an ardent thirst for literary 
acquisition ; for, after having discharged the duties of the 
day, he frequently devoted a great part of the night to the 
study of the Hebrew and Greek languages, assisted by a Mr. 
Donaldson, a man well qualified to give him the necessary 
instruction ; and from this pursuit he suffered nothing to 
divert him. Quite unconscious of the arduous and im- 
portant duties awaiting him, he was now laying in stores 
of knowledge, influenced and impelled by the secret work- 
ings of Him, who was gradually preparing the destined 
instrument for future and extensive usefulness. 

In Dumfermline he remained about ten years ; and having 

* From " Select Evangelical Biography." 



233 

by industrious application attained to great proficiency in 
his trade, aiming at still greater improvement, he came to 
the resolution of visiting England, without any view, at that 
time, of ultimately settling there ; but from a desire of 
obtaining a thorough knowledge of his business. He went 
first to Haddington ; here he introduced himself to the Rev. 
John Brown, who, in his early days, had lived with his pious 
grandmother at Balcanqual, in the capacity of herd-boy ; 
nor is it a little remarkable, that from the same farm, and 
probably engaged in the same occupation, two persons should 
proceed to attain to such eminence and usefulness, and to 
occupy stations so similar in the church of Christ. Leaving 
Haddington, he proceeded, through various places, to Cot- 
ters tone, in Yorkshire : a place destined to be the scene of 
events, infinitely important to himself, and highly beneficial 
to the church of Christ. 

He brought with him to this place materials for the forma- 
tion of a most excellent character ; a healthy, vigorous con- 
stitution, great energy of mind and feeling, a high degree of 
moral excellence, an amiable and generous disposition, which 
raised him in the esteem of all who knew him ; and when all 
these natural and acquired endowments were sanctified and 
crowned by divine grace, he became " a vessel unto honor, 
sanctified and meet for the Master's use, and prepared unto 
every good work." 

He made, at this time, a profession of religion, was con- 
sidered an upright and consistent character, and he so 
eminently excelled in devotional exercises, as to excite the 
astonishment of all who heard him. Such was his character 
antecedent to that change which places him among the excel- 
lent of the earth. On his first coming to Cotterstone, like 
all steady, judicious Scotchmen, he associated with the 
dissenters, and sat under the evangelical and useful ministry 
20* 



234 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

of the Rev. Mr. Prattman, who proved the honored instru- 
ment, in the hand of God, of bringing him to a saving 
knowledge of the truth. Some single sentence, coming from 
the lips of the man of God, was directed to the heart. He 
was brought to experience those terrors of an awakened 
conscience, which drank up his spirit, and by which, to adopt 
his own expression, he " was shaken, as it were, over the 
mouth of hell." Previous to this, it has been seen, that he 
had much light in the understanding, exhibited much recti- 
tude of moral conduct, was the subject of occasional fervor 
of religious feeling, and possessed considerable gifts in 
prayer ; affording, hereby, a striking specimen how far a 
person may advance in a profession of religion, without 
becoming the subject of its subduing and sanctifying power. 
Influenced by a lively recollection of his- own experience, he 
was led to entertain jealous apprehensions of the reality of 
religion, in many who came with a fair character from beyond 
the Tweed, until he had obtained some decided evidence 
that their religion was something more than educational and 
theoretical. 

That he had now undergone a wonderful and entire revo- 
lution of views and feelings, was as evident to his own mind, 
as the light of day, or the reality of his own existence ; and 
of this he never entertained a shadow of a doubt to his last 
moment. 

Great as were the horrors he at first experienced, they 
were fully equalled by the joy which flowed into his heart 
when the gospel came to his relief. So great was the 
change, that at first, almost overpowered, it appeared a 
pleasing dream. To borrow his own simple mode of ex- 
pression, when describing his state of mind at that period, 
he repeatedly went to the door, to see if the trees and the 
meadows remained the same ; imagining that nature herself 



ROBERT SIMPSON, D. D. 235 

must have sympathized in the change. He was for a while 
almost unfitted for the sober realities of life : in short, his 
joyful feelings, occasioned by the sensible deliverance he had 
obtained, were of the highest order, amounting to rapture. 
" For days together," said he to a friend, " I was like one 
transported to the third heavens, &c. ! what days were 
those ! the recollection of them, after a lapse of fifty years, 
is still fresh and delightful. I seemed to have got within 
the very grasp of the Invisible." Much as he had been 
esteemed before, he now became an object of more interest- 
ing contemplation and ardent affection. Whereas before he 
excelled in the gift of prayer, now the inworkings of holy 
fervor invested his supplications with an ardor which aston- 
ished and melted those who joined with him at social meet- 
ings for prayer and- praise. On one of those occasions, the 
whole assembly was melted to tears, and on rising from their 
knees, one of them came to him, and embracing him, said, 
" Simpson, you have been into the third heavens, and have 
carried us along with you." 

Now, not satisfied with the circumscribed field of useful- 
ness around him, he felt a desire to be employed in pro- 
claiming the gospel to his fellow-creatures. In this laudable 
wish he was encouraged by his pastor and Christian friends. 
Accordingly, in the year 1776, he entered the academy at 
Heckmondwike, Yorkshire, under the truly excellent Kev. 
James Scott. 

While prosecuting his studies, he enjoyed the high esteem 
of his tutor, and of his fellow-students, for his ardent piety, 
his uncommon diligence in study, and his serious, spiritual 
conversation. His occasional services, while a student, pro- 
duced a deep impression, and held out a promise of future 
excellence. When he had completed his course of study, 
and by diligent application had improved his mind, and laid 



236 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

in considerable stores of useful knowledge, he preached, for 
different periods, at various places in the North ; but finally 
settled at Bolton-le-Moor, in Lancashire, where he was 
ordained in the year 1782. Here he found the congrega- 
tion in a low state ; but he had soon the satisfaction of 
witnessing a gradual increase of hearers, and of knowing 
that many were savingly impressed with divine things. He 
preached with great fervor ; and on some remarkably happy 
seasons, when he enjoyed great liberty in the pulpit, his 
ardent soul, in endeavoring to grasp the mighty theme of 
redeeming love, seemed on the point of breaking from its 
prison of clay, while his admiring and astonished hearers 
really expected he would expire under the intensity of his 
feelings. 

Visiting London in the year 1786, with a view to solicit 
contributions to liquidate a debt which had been incurred by 
enlarging the place of worship at Bolton, he soon attracted 
considerable attention, and his eminent talents, which before 
this had been buried in comparative obscurity, now became 
conspicuous : and this burning light was no longer to be 
confined to a small part of the church, but to be placed on 
an eminence, in order that it might shine to a greater extent. 
It happened at this time, that the Evangelical Academy, as 
it was then called, was destitute of a tutor, in consequence 
of the resignation of Dr. Addington ; and by the recom- 
mendation of several individuals, the attention of the com- 
mittee was directed to Dr. Simpson. A pressing invitation 
was sent him to accept the office. For some time he shrunk 
back from the weighty task, alleging want of sufficient 
talents, habits of tuition, &c. The correspondence, how- 
ever, strengthened the conviction, that he was a suitable 
person ; and on further solicitation, with the consent and 
acquiescence of the church at Bolton, to whom he referred 



237 

the decision, he yielded to what evidently appeared, both to 
him and his people, to be the leadings of Divine Providence. 

Having taken an affectionate leave of his beloved flock at 
Bolton, he came with his family to Hoxton in 1791. Here, 
as soon as he began to feel himself at home, and became 
fully occupied in the discharge of his new duties, he pro- 
ceeded with all his wonted ardor of soul, impressing his own 
character on all around him. During the first six years, the 
whole weight of the charge rested on himself. The fruits of 
his unremitting assiduity were soon perceptible, in the 
increasing number of applications for admission, and the 
growing popularity of the institution. Beside the daily 
routine of labor in the academy, the Doctor, at his first 
coming to town, in the prime and vigor of his days, was 
abundant in labors beyond the precincts o£ the institution ; 
preaching much in various pulpits : converting some of the 
buildings on the premises belonging to the academy into a 
chapel, which was opened in 1796 ; and at length taking the 
pastoral charge of the church in Artillery Street, which, 
however, he soon relinquished. 

In addition to his labors as a tutor and as a preacher, he 
took an active part in promoting schemes of public and gen- 
eral utility ; and was one of the earliest and most active 
friends of the Evangelical Magazine, the London Missionary 
Society, &c. 

In the year 1797, his declining health, with the increased 
number of students, dictated the propriety of choosing an 
assistant. His first colleague was the Rev. G. Collison, now 
tutor of another Academy at Hackney. Afterwards the 
Rev. J. Atkinson: in 1808, the Rev. J. Hooper; and 
shortly after, in consequence of the adoption of a more 
enlarged system of education, a third tutor being deemed 
necessary, the Rev. II. F. Burder was invited to Hoxton ; 



238 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and with these colleagues, the Doctor spent the last nine 
years of his laborious and useful life, in the greatest harmony 
and affection. 

In May, 1817, finding a disorder with which he had been 
long troubled increase, and his strength abate, he tendered 
his resignation to the committee. He still, however, con- 
tinued to lecture, as often as his bodily pains would allow. 
Death at length drew near ; but amidst the greatest suffer- 
ings, he was patient and tranquil ; and in the prospect of 
eternity, joyful and triumphant. At intervals he employed 
his tongue in giving expression to the strong feelings and the 
lively hopes which animated his breast ; and he spoke like 
one who was in the very suburbs of the New Jerusalem. 
The most sublime ideas, clothed in the most forcible and 
appropriate language, and expressed with uncommon energy, 
often astonished and overwhelmed those who were standing 
by. His sun went down, after a lengthened and useful 
course, in surpassing glory ; no cloud of unbelief being suf- 
fered for a single moment to obscure its lustre. Many of 
his expressions were recorded, and two or three of the most 
remarkable are inserted here. 

One day, when several of his family were in the room, he 
said, "Oh, that I had strength to speak what I feel ! My 
body, it is true, is tormented beyond measure ; but the joy 
of my soul is transporting : my prospects are ravishing in 
the extreme. Oh ! what must it be to dwell with Jesus in 
heaven, to behold his inexpressible glories, to feast on his 
love ! If faith can see and enjoy so much, what must the 
beatific vision be ! Why, the very prospect of this is enough 
for all ' the pains, the groans, the dying strife,' of frail mor- 
tality. Why should we refuse, and be afraid to die ? What 
is death but a conquered enemy ? Has not Christ opened 
for us a passage to immortality ? Oh, yes, blessed be his 



MRS. GRAHAM. 239 

name ! I feel it, I rejoice and triumph in the thought : 

" ' The holy triumphs of my soul 
Shall death itself outbrave ; 
Leave dull mortality behind, 
And fly beyond the grave ! ' " 

Many other -memorable sayings dropped from his lips ; but 
his triumphant challenge, addressed to the King of Terrors, 
on»the morning of his dissolution, which took place about 
noon, on Lord's-day, December 21st, 1817, must not be 
omitted. He had endured a night of indescribable agony ; 
and early in the morning, as if he saw the enemy actually 
approaching, with a fixed look, and an energy not to be 
described, he exclaimed, " Now, have at thee, Death — 
have at thee, Death — have at thee, Death : — what art 
thou ? I am not afraid of thee. Thou art a vanquished 
enemy, through the blood of the Cross. Thou art only a 
skeleton, a mere phantom. Have at thee, Death — Have 
at thee, Death ! " 



MRS. GRAHAM.* 

Isabella Marshall, afterwards Mrs. Graham, was born 
July 29th, 1742, in the county of Lanark, in Scotland. She 
was trained to an active life, as well as favored with a 
superior education. She possessed an intellect — strong, 
prompt, and inquisitive ; a temper — open, generous, cheer- 
ful and ardent ; a heart — replete with tenderness, and 
alive to every social affection, and every benevolent impulse. 

* Abridged from " Evangelical Biography," and from " Eminent Females." 



240 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

To form her betimes for the future dispensations of his 
providence, the Lord touched the heart of this " chosen 
vessel" in her early youth. The spirit of prayer sanctified 
her infant lips, and taught her, as far back as her memory 
could go, " to pour out her heart before God." She had 
not reached her eleventh year, when, in the words of 
Eldersly, " she selected a bush, to which she resorted in 
seasons of devotion, and there dedicated herself to God by 
faith in the Redeemer." 

The incidents of her education, thoughtless companions, 
the love of dress and the dancing-school, chilled for a 
while the warmth of her piety, and robbed her bosom of its 
peace ; but her gracious Lord revisited her with his mercy, 
and bound her to himself in a solemn covenant, which 
she sealed at his table about the seventeenth year of her 
age. 

Having married, a few years after, Dr. John Graham, 
surgeon to the 60th British regiment, she accompanied him, 
first to Montreal, and afterwards to Fort Niagara. Here, dur- 
ing four years of temporal prosperity, she had no opportunity, 
even for once, of entering " the habitation of God's house," 
or hearing the sound of the gospel. Secluded from the 
waters of the sanctuary, and all the public means of growth 
in grace, her religion began to languish, and the leaf to 
droop ; but the root was perennial — it was of the " seed of 
God, which abideth for ever." The Sabbath was still to her. 
the sign of his covenant. On that day of rest, with her 
Bible in her hand, she used to wander through the woods, 
renew her self-dedication, and pour out her prayer for the 
salvation of her husband and her children. He who dwel- 
leth not in temples made with hands, heard her cry from the 
wilds of Niagara, and strengthened her with strength in her 
soul. 



MRS. GRAHAM. 241 

By one of the vicissitudes which checker military life, the 
regiment was ordered to the island of Antigua, in the West 
Indies. Here she met with that exquisite enjoyment to 
which she had been so long, a stranger — the communion of 
kindred spirits in the love of Christ : and soon did she need 
all the soothing and support which it is fitted to administer : 
for in a very short time the husband of her youth, her whole 
earthly stay, was taken from her by death. The stroke was 
indeed mitigated by the sweetest assurance that he slept in 
Jesus. But a heart like hers, convulsed by a review of the 
past, and anticipation of the future world, would have burst 
with agony, had she not known how to pour out its sorrows 
into the bosom of her heavenly Father. Bowing to the 
mysterious dispensation, and committing herself to his pro- 
tection, she returned to her native land, to contract alliance 
with penury, and to live by faith for her daily bread. There 
the same grace, under whose teaching she knew how to 
abound, taught her also how to suifer need. With a dignity 
that belongs only to those who have treasure in heaven, she 
descended to her humble cot, employment, and fare. 

But her humility was the forerunner of her advancement. 
The light of her virtues shone brightest in her obscurity, and 
pointed her way to the confidential trust of forming the minds 
and manners of young females of different ranks in the 
metropolis of Scotland. Here, respected by the great, 
and honored by the good, she continued in the successful 
discharge of her duties, till Providence conducted her back 
to the American shores, where, in the city of New York, she 
opened a school for the education of young ladies. 

Admonished, at length, by the infirmities of age, and 

importuned by her friends, this venerable matron retired to 

private life. But it was impossible for her to be idle. Her 

leisure only gave a new direction to her activity. With no 

21 



242 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

less alacrity than she had displayed in the education of 
youth, did she now embark in the relief of misery. In her 
house, originated a society for the relief of poor widows with 
small children. The Orphan Asylum originated also with 
her : and even the Sabbath previous to her last illness, 
occupied her with a recent institution — a Sunday School 
for Ignorant Adults. 

She was greatly refreshed in spirit by the success of Mis- 
sionary and Bible Societies, and used to speak with much 
affection of those missionaries with whom she had become 
acquainted, since they visited New York, on their way to the 
stations in India. 

During the last two years of her life, Mrs. Graham seemed 
to be fast ripening for heaven. She withdrew almost entirely 
from public engagements, and spent her time chiefly in pri- 
vate reading, meditation, and prayer. The only instance in 
which she emerged from her retirement, was for the purpose 
of joining some ladies in forming a society for the promotion 
of industry among the poor. This was an object which she 
had long had at heart, and the last public act of her life was 
devoted to it. 

For some weeks before her last illness, her health was 
unusually good. The greater part of her time she dedicated 
to reading. Owen, Romaine, and Newton, were her favorite 
authors. On the two Sabbaths before she was attacked with 
the disease which terminated her earthly career, she partook 
of the Lord's Supper. Her last meditation was written on 
one of these occasions, and closes with these words : 

" I ate the bread, and drank the wine, in the faith that I 
ate the flesh, and drank the blood, of the Son of Man, and 
dwelt in him, and he in me ! took a close view of my familiar 
friend, death, accompanied with the presence of my Saviour — 
his sensible presence. I cannot look at it without this. It 



MRS. GRAHAM. 243 

is my only petition concerning it. I have had desires rela 
tive to certain circumstances, but they are nearly gone. It 
is my sincere desire that God may be glorified ; and He 
knows best how, and by what circumstances. I retain my 
one petition : — 

" * Only to me thy countenance show, 
I ask no more the Jordan through.' " 

On Tuesday, the 19th July, 1814, she began to complain 
slightly, but for two days her illness was not alarming. At 
length she became convinced that her end could not be far 
distant. Her mind remained calm and collected. Observ- 
ing Mr. Bethune standing by her bed-side, with a counte- 
nance somewhat agitated, she said, " My dear, clear son, I 
am going to leave you, I am going to my Saviour." " I 
know," he replied, " that, when you do go from us, it will 
be to the Saviour ; but, my dear mother, it may not be the 
Lord's time now to call you to himself." " Yes," said she, 
" now is the time ; and, oh ! I could weep for sin." Her 
words were accompanied with her tears. " Have you any 
doubts, then, my clear friend ? " asked Mrs. Christie. " Oh 
no," replied Mrs. Graham ; and looking at Mr. and Mrs. 
Bethune, as they wept : " My dear children, I have no more 
doubts of going to my Saviour, than if I were already in his 
arms ; my guilt is all transferred ; he has cancelled all I 
owed. Yet I could weep for sins against so good a God ; it 
seems to me as if there must be weeping even in heaven for 
sin." After this she entered into conversation with her 
friends, mentioning portions of Scripture, and favorite hymns, 
which had been subjects of much comfortable exercise of 
mind to her. Some of these she had transcribed into a little 
book, calling them her provision prepared for crossing over 
Jordan ; she committed them to memory, and often called 
them to remembrance, as her songs in the night, when sleep 



244 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



*fi 



had deserted her. She then got Mr. Bethune to read her 
some of these portions, especially the eighty-second hymn 
of the third book of Newton's Hymns, beginning thus : 

" Let us love, and sing, and. wonder ; 
Let us praise the Saviour's name ! 
He has hushed the law's loud thunder ; 
He has quenched Mount Sinai's flame ; 
He has washed us with his blood ; 
He has brought us nigh to God." 



Mrs. Graham then fell asleep, nor did she awaken until 
the voice of the Rev. Dr. Mason roused her. They had a 
very affectionate interview, which he has partly described in 
the excellent sermon he delivered after her decease. She 
expressed to him her hope, as founded altogether on the 
redemption that is in Jesus Christ. Were she left to depend 
on the merits of the best action she had ever performed, that 
would be only a source of despair. She repeated to him, as 
her view of salvation, the fourth verse of the hymn already 
quoted : 

" Let us wonder, grace and justice 
Join, and point at mercy's store : 
When through grace in Christ our trust is, 
Justice smiles, and asks no more : 
He who washed us with his blood, 
Has secured our way to God." 

Having asked Dr. Mason to pray with her, he inquired 
if there was any particular request she had to make of God, 
by him ; she replied, that God will direct : then, as he 
knelt, she put up her hands, and, raising her eyes towards 
heaven, breathed this short, but expressive petition, " Lord, 
lead thy servant in prayer." 

After Dr. Mason had taken his leave, she again fell 
into a deep sleep. Her physicians still expressed a hope of 
her recovery, as her pulse was regular, and the violence of 
her disease had abated. One of them, however, declared 



MRS. GRAHAM. 245 

his opinion, that his poor drugs would prove of little avail 
against her own ardent prayers, " to depart, and be with 
Christ, which was far better " for her, than her return to a 
dying world. 

On Monday, the Rev. Mr. Rowan prayed with her, and 
to him she expressed also the tranquillity of her mind, and 
the steadfastness of her hope, through Christ, of eternal 
felicity. 

Her lethargy increased ; at intervals from sleep, she 
would occasionally assure her daughter, Mrs. Bethune, that 
all was well ; and when she could rouse herself only to say 
one word at a time, that one word accompanied with a smile, 
was, " peace." From her there was a peculiar emphasis in 
this expression of the state of her mind ; " Peace I leave 
with you, my peace I give unto you," had been a favorite 
portion of Scripture with her, and a promise, the fulfilment 
of which was her earnest prayer to the God who made it. 
She also occasionally asked Mr. Bethune to pray with her, 
even when she could only articulate, as she looked at him, 
" Pray." She was now surrounded by many of her dear 
Christian friends, who watched her dying bed with affection 
and solicitude. On Tuesday afternoon she slept with little 
intermission. " This," said Dr. Mason, " may be truly called 
falling asleep in Jesus." It was remarked, by those who 
attended her, that all terror was taken away, and that death 
seemed here as an entrance into life. 

At a quarter past twelve o'clock, being the morning of 
the 27th of July, 1814, without a struggle or a groan, her 
spirit winged its flight from a mansion of clay to the realms 
of glory ! 

21* 



246 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY. 

The final hours of this eminent Calvinist minister are thus 
described by his biographer. During his last illness the 
consolations of religion were his support. A few days 
before his death, he said to a friend, " 0, my dear sir, it is 
impossible to tell how good God is to me. This afternoon, I 
have enjoyed such a season of communion with God, and 
such delightful manifestations of his presence with me and 
love to my soul, that it is impossible for words or any lan- 
guage to express them. I have had peace and joy unutter- 
able. " To another friend he said, " The comforts and 
manifestations of God's love are so abundant as to render 
my state and condition the most desirable in the world. I 
would not exchange my condition with any one upon earth." 

The same friend waiting upon him a few days before his 
death, he said, with clasped hands, his eyes lifted up to 
heaven, and streaming with tears of joy, "0, my dear sir, 
I cannot tell you the comforts I feel in my soul ; they are 
past expression. The consolations of God, to so unworthy a 
wretch, are so abundant, that he leaves me nothing to pray 
for but their continuance. I enjoy a heaven already in my 
soul. My prayers are all converted into praise." 

At another time he said, " 0, how this soul of mine longs 
to be gone : like a bird, imprisoned in a cage, it longs to 
take its flight. tat I had wings like a dove, then would 
I flee away to the realms of bliss, and be at rest for ever ! 
that some guardian angel might be commissioned, for I long 
to be absent from this body, and to be present with my Lord 
for ever." 

During several days, almost without intermission, he cried 
out, " 0, what a day of sunshine has this been to me ! I 



COUNT Z1NZENDORF. 247 

have not words to express it. It is unutterable. My friend, 
how good is God. Almost without interruption his presence 
has been with me." Near his last awaking from a slumber, 
he said, " what delights ! who can fathom the joys of the 
third heavens ? " And again, a little before his death — 
" The sky is clear, there is no cloud : Come, Lord Jesus, 
come quickly I " 

" More I would speak, but all my words are faint : 
Celestial Love, what eloquence can paint ? 
No more by mortal words can be expressed ; 
But vast Eternity shall tell the rest." 

Mrs. Eowe. 



COUNT ZINZENDORF* 

His physician found that he was attacked by a violent 
catarrhal fever, which produced great debility. He con- 
versed that evening with his three daughters, and some 
other individuals of his household, in a very confidential and 
pleasing manner. He said to them, with reference to his 
illness, that when formerly unwell, he had always minutely 
inquired into the cause of his illness, and what the Lord 
intended by it ; and as soon as he had ascertained it, he 
always preferred revealing it to his intimate friends to the 
keeping it to himself. He knew that the Saviour was not 
opposed to our openly presenting ourselves before his chil- 
dren as poor sinners, and it always rendered the chastise- 
ment lighter. Thus he had acted during the whole of his 
life, and has always asked forgiveness of his adversaries, as 

* Moravian Bishop. Extracted from his Biography. 



248 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

soon as he found that he had erred respecting them. Nor 
had his openness in this respect suffered injury by their 
frequent abuse of it ; for the Lord knows how to raise his 
people again to honor. This time, however, he felt assured 
that the Saviour had no such intention in his sickness. He 
was inwardly very cheerful, and entirely resigned to the 
Lord. He passed the night almost entirely without sleep, 
which debilitated him still more, but his spirit continued in 
its wonted activity. He was accustomed, when ill, to have 
read to him the letters that were received, and the answers 
that were returned ; and this was the case likewise that day. 
He revised the "Watch-words" for the year 1761, and 
listened to the latest intelligence which had arrived from the 
various churches and missions, at which he expressed his 
satisfaction. 

The next night his illness increased : he was unable to 
obtain any sleep, and the physician began to be apprehen- 
sive of a fatal result. An incessant cough rendered speech 
difficult ; yet still he expressed his pleasure at the presence 
of his oldest and most intimate friends, Baron Frederick Yon 
WatervMle, and Count Henry 28th Reuss, both of whom 
conversed with him in a pleasing manner. The ministers of 
the church took it in turns to be with him, and he received 
each of them with the tenderest affection. 

The following night he was also extremely friendly and 
kind towards the brethren who sat up with him, but was too 
weak to sleep, and his frequent slumbers lasted scarcely 
longer than a minute at a time. Notwithstanding this, he 
was more cheerful on the 8th than during his whole illness. 
Whoever came to him were received most affectionately. 
" I cannot express," said he to his son-in-law, and others 
who were present, " how much I love you all. I am now 
in my element. We are together like angels, and as if we 



COUNT ZINZENDORF. 249 

were in heaven." " Could you have thought it," said he to 
one of the company, " that the prayer of Christ, ' that they 
all may be one,' would be so blissfully fulfilled among us." 
Whilst speaking on this subject, the greatest kindness and 
love shone in his countenance. He then called to mind 
many who had already entered into the joy of their Lord, 
and calculated how many of his acquaintances and friends 
had joined the church above. He mentioned, also, on this 
occasion, the blissful dissolution of the Countess Louisa of 
Solms. 

In the afternoon, he sent for Brother Lanterbach, who 
used to assist him in his writings, and applied with much 
satisfaction and presence of mind, the last hand to the cor- 
rection of the last month of the Watch-words for the follow- 
ing year, and also altered many things in the collects. 

Soon after, he began gratefully to call to mind what great 
things the Lord had done to his church, during his instru- 
mentality for upwards of thirty years, and all that had been 
accomplished since that period. He recounted them one 
after another, and said to one of those who were his first 
associates, and to others present, " Did you suppose in the 
beginning, that the Saviour would do as much as we now 
really see, in the various Moravian settlements, amongst the 
children of God of other denominations, and amongst the 
heathen ? I only entreated of him a few first fruits of 
the latter, but there are now thousands of them." He~ 
blessed and praised the Lord for this, and so many other 
unexpected blessings, with a grateful and humble heart. 

With the same pleasure and cheerfulness in which he 
spent the last day of his earthly pilgrimage, he also passed 
the last night of his earthly life. He conversed much with 
his Saviour, and also wrote and labored much. The affairs 
of several of the brethren lay near his heart. He inquired 



250 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

after them by name, and remembered all those with whom 
he wished to have spoken ; in short, all those things in which 
he had hitherto been engaged, were perfectly present to his 
mind. 

With respect to his disorder, it seemed the evening before 
as if it would cause an outward eruption ; hut at midnight it 
was perceived that his tongue refused its office, a violent 
attack of phlegm occurred, which, however, passed off in a 
few minutes. Speech also returned towards morning, and 
he heartily thanked the Saviour for being still able to 
speak. i 

Very early on the 9th of May, he said, in a faint voice, 
to a person who came to visit him, " I am well satisfied with 
the ways of the Lord. He has special thoughts of peace 
concerning his disciple ; but you do not think so at present. 
I think I have almost done with you ; you know my senti- 
ments if I should now be taken home." He was not then 
able to say any more. 

Soon after, John Yon Waterville was called, who, at his 
request, took his seat close by his bedside, because he could 
not speak sufficiently audible. He said to him, " Now, my 
dear sir, I am going to the Saviour ; I am ready, I am quite 
resigned to the will of my Lord, and he is satisfied with me. 
If he is no longer willing to make use of me here, I am 
quite ready to go to him ; for there is nothing more in my 
way." He then briefly regulated some affairs with him, 
respecting which he was the most anxious, and which he 
enjoined him to expedite. 

Baron Frederick Yon Watervelle and David Witschman, 
came soon after ; he received them very tenderly, and con- 
versed with them, but his voice became again so faint, that 
they were able to understand very little. He then sent for 
his children, but before they arrived, an apoplectic seizure 



HANNAH MORE. 251 

had deprived him of speech. He looked at them in the 
kindest manner, saluted them and blessed them. 

Meanwhile, nearly an hundred brethren and sisters had 
assembled in the room where he lay, and the adjoining 
apartment. The disciple of Jesus, now about to depart, 
looked a few times around him with a kind and indiscribably 
cheerful countenance, which was answered by the affection- 
ate tears of those present. His parting look was uncom- 
monly expressive and serene. Towards the end of the ninth 
hour of the day, he reclined his head upon his pillow, his 
eyes closed of themselves, and he ceased to breathe. His 
son-in-law accompanied the departing spirit with the words, 
" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." The 
peace of God was powerfully felt by all present, and many 
an ejaculation was heard expressive of the wish to follow 
him. 



HANNAH MORE. 

This eminent Christian lady was born at Stapleton, in 
Gloucestershire, England, in the year 1745. 

Her father, Mr. Jacob More, was the master of a clas- 
sical school in the town of her nativity, and was a well-edu- 
cated and highly respected person. In early life, Hannah, 
who was the youngest but one of five daughters, gave indi- 
cations of peculiar vivacity and acuteness of mind. Her 
father, who was her teacher, and took particular interest in 
the education of his daughter, watched with great care over 
the rapid developments of her inquiring mind, and instructed 
her not only in the more elemental branches of study, but 



252 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

also in Latin and Mathematics. The older sisters were also 
educated with the utmost attention, and afforded every 
available facility for rendering them competent to fill the 
office of instructresses, a profession to which they looked for 
their future support. 

When Hannah was twelve years of age, her eldest sister 
opened a boarding school in Bristol, and hither Hannah, 
with the other sisters, removed, to enjoy the instructions of 
the different teachers retained in the institution. At an 
early age Hannah began to exhibit her peculiar talent for 
writing, producing verses of a superior order, for one of her 
age. So encouraging was the success that crowned her 
earliest efforts, added to the flattering encouragements of 
her friends, that she ventured upon a more difficult literary 
work, and at the precocious age of seventeen, wrote the 
pastoral Drama, entitled, the " Search after Happiness," a 
composition of extraordinary merit from the hand of one so 
young. She still applied herself diligently to her studies, 
making herself familiar with the Latin, Italian, French, and 
Spanish languages, and producing excellent translations and 
imitations of the works of foreign authors. 

Captivated by the promises of high literary renown, and the 
bewitching seducements offered in the highly intelligent cir- 
cles in which she moved, although a formal professor of the 
Christian religion, she gave herself up to the exciting pur- 
suits and amusements of fashionable life. Much of her time 
now (at the age of twenty-two,) was spent in London, 
moving in the most highly cultivated circles, and associating 
with the first literary minds of the day. She had already 
prepared several successful pieces for the stage, and estab- 
lished her claim to the respect and admiration of those who 
could esteem intellectual superiority. She numbered among 
her friends at this time, many of the brightest ornaments of 



HANNAH MORE. 253 

the pulpit;, the bar, and of the literary world, and with many 
of these she corresponded until the end of their lives, — her 
wit, genius and peculiar amiability causing her acquaintance 
to be eagerly sought, and her friendship to be prized. 

In the midst of these almost irresistible fascinations, the 
death of an intimate friend, Garrick, the celebrated trage- 
dian, became the occasion of a marked change in her life, 
habits and affections. The work of the Spirit in her case 
was gradual, but none the less thorough or satisfactory. By 
degrees she drew herself away from the captivating, but 
dangerous, society in which she had moved ; — she conse- 
crated her pen more entirely to the service of morality and 
religion, and sought no longer her enjoyment in the gay and 
thoughtless world, nor in the applause of the giddy multi- 
tude, but in the luxurious work of doing good, and in obedi- 
ence to the precepts of the gospel of our Lord and Saviour, 
Jesus Christ. 

In IT 85, in order to remove herself from the worldly 
influences of a metropolitan society, and to secure more 
time for reflection, and the discharge of religious duties, she 
purchased a cottage near Bristol — a secluded spot bearing 
the name of Cowslip Green, and thither she removed. Occa- 
sionally she passed a few weeks with her old friends in Lon- 
don, but her interest in worldly society had ceased, and she 
sought to make these visits the means of spiritual benefit to 
those with whom she met. Thus she writes to her sister, 
while upon one of these visits to Mrs. Garrick : 

" I have naturally but a small appetite for grandeur, 
which is always satisfied, even to indigestion, before I leave 
this town ; and I require a long abstinence to get any relish 
for it again ; yet I repeat, these are very agreeable, — but 
there is dress, there is restraint, there is want of leisure, to 
which I feel it difficult to conform for any length of time ; 
and life is short. 

22 



254 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" I some times get an interesting morning visiter ; of two 
or three I have entertained some hope that they "were begin- 
ning to think seriously. Lady B. and I had a long discourse 
yesterday ; she seemed anxious for religious information. I 
told her much plain truth, and she bore it so well that I 
ventured to give her Doddridge. If she should not stumble 
at the threshold, from the strong manner in which the book 

opens, I trust she will read it with good effect. Miss 

has been also with me several times ; beautiful and accom- 
plished, surrounded with flatterers, and sunk in dissipation, 
I asked her why she continued to live so much below, not 
only her principles, but her understanding — what pleasure 
she derived from crowds of persons so inferior to herself — 
did it make her happy ? Happy ! she said ; No, she was 
miserable. She despised the society she lived in, and had 
no enjoyment of the pleasures by which her life was con- 
sumed ; but what could she do ? She could not be singular, 
she must do as her acquaintance did. I pushed it so home 
on her conscience, that she wept bitterly, and embraced me. 
I conjured her to read her Bible, with which she is utterly 
unacquainted. These fine creatures are, I hope, sincere, 
when they promise to do better ; but the very next tempta- 
tion that across them, puts all their good intentions to flight, 
and they go on, as if they had never formed them ; nay, all 
the worse for having formed and not realized them. They 
shall have my prayers, which are the most effectual part of 
our endeavors." 

In the quiet seclusion of her rural retreat, Miss More 
devoted those peculiar mental gifts with which she was en- 
dowed, and which had been offered heretofore upon a worldly 
altar, to the higher offices of spiritual instructions. She 
consecrated all the influence and reputation she had gained, 
to the service of her Saviour ; as she had moved in the 
higher circles, and become acquainted with the temptations 
and follies to which the world's great and wealthy were 
exposed ; and as her literary reputation would secure even 
here, the perusal of her works on religious topics, she sent 



HANNAH MORE. 255 

forth her instructive and impressive work — " The Manners 
of the Great" — a seasonable and highly popular book. 

Her sisters about this time (1789) having given up their 
school, passed a large portion of their time with her, in the 
happy retreat at Cowslip Green. In their rambles about 
the country, they were struck with the deplorable ignorance 
and viciousness of the poorer classes, and they formed the 
resolution of establishing schools for the mental and religious 
training of the young. Considerable opposition was offered 
to their undertaking, but these pious ladies resolutely perse 
vered. Mr. Wilberforce, who was an intimate friend and 
a correspondent of Miss More, entered warmly into her 
plans, and assisted, both with advice and generous pecuniary 
donations. The plan proved eminently successful ; the num- 
ber of the scholars was increased ; pious teachers were 
obtained ; schools were opened for their parents, and she 
even ventured to read sermons to them upon the Sabbath, 
was there was no church near, and the people were grow- 
ing up ignorant, and blind upon the more important matters 
relating to anothe* world. The result was an incalculable 
amount of good. The children were saved from vicious 
courses, and prepared for useful positions in the world, while 
many of the old and the young, through the religious instruc- 
tions received, embraced the gospel, and were thus happily 
prepared for this world and its afflictions, and for an endless 
and blessed life beyond the grave. " It was a source of 
great delight to Miss More to pass from village to village, 
and witness the change which, by the divine blessing, had 
followed her exertions. The wilderness had, in some mea- 
sure, become a fruitful field, and many who were groping in 
the darkness of spiritual ignorance, were rejoicing in the 
light of divine truth." While thus engaged, her pen was 
actively employed in the great work of doing good. In 



256 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

1790, she published her " Estimate of the Keligion of the 
Fashionable World," a clear and solemn exposure of the 
follies and vices of the rich, and the lamentable want of 
practical piety. This work also was eagerly received by the 
public, and five editions of it were sold within two years. 
In 1792, the French revolution burst out with all its aggra- 
vated horrors, shaking not only the foundations of society in 
France, but throughout the continent, and even threatening 
the overturn of the English monarchy. The spirit of dissat- 
isfaction with the government, of turbulence, indolence, licen- 
tiousness, infidelity and atheism, through popular addresses 
and inflammatory publications, had been widely spread 
among the lower classes in England. Great and good men 
became alarmed, and strong efforts were put forth to stay 
the plague. Miss More was earnestly requested to enter 
the field with her pen, and by a series of popular tales, 
expose the shallow, blasphemous philosophy of these French 
prophets, as they were styled. This she did most effect- 
ually in her " Village Dialogues, by Will Chip," a tract 
that had an extraordinary circulation in all the British isles, 
and for which she received the warmest thanks of the most 
intelligent minds in the country. 

Her labors in her schools still continued, attended with 
much sacrifice, caused by the malignancy of enemies to all 
good, but attended with blessed success, while her untiring 
pen, year after year, continued to indite those polished and 
eloquent pages that still delight and profit the church. In 
1799, her "Strictures on Female Education" was issued, 
and as eagerly received by the Christian public as its prede- 
cessors. In 1805, she published her "Hints towards Form- 
ing the Character of a Young Princess," being especially 
designed for the lamented Princess Charlotte of Wales. 
This was followed in 1809, by " Coelebs in Search of a 



HANNAH MORE. 257 

Wife," a book so popular that in nine months it reached the 
eleventh edition, and was republished and rapidly sold in 
America. In 1811, "Practical Piety" was issued, and 
soon after, " Christian Morals," both most admirable trea- 
tises, and " forming a complete system of practical divinity." 
About this time she was called to part with Mary More, 
her eldest sister ; an afflicting event, but yet full of conso- 
lation. She thus speaks of it to one of her most intimate 
friends : 

" The solemn scene is closed. My eldest sister is escaped 
from this world of sorrow, and is, I humbly trust, through the 
mercies of her God, and the merits of her Saviour, translated 
to a world of peace, where there will be neither sin, sorrow, 
nor separation. Her impatience to be gone, (when she had 
the use of her reason) was great. We had all of us the 
melancholy satisfaction to see her breathe her last. I 
thought it something blessed to die on Easter Sunday — 
to descend to the grave on the day that Jesus triumphed 
over it. 

" It is pleasant to see death without its terrors. We visit 
the cold remains twenty times a day, and I am dividing my 
morning between the contemplation of her serene counten- 
ance, and reading my favorite Baxter's Saint's Rest." 

At the astonishing age of 70 years, Miss More wrote her 
last but one, and in some respects greatest, work, the 
" Essay on St. Paul," " with all the freshness and vigor of 
her early days." In 1816, two other of the sisters, Miss 
Elizabeth and Miss Sarah More, were removed from their 
beautiful home on earth to a better mansion in the skies, by 
death. The illness of the latter was painful, but Christian 
patience and constancy wonderfully triumphed in her hours 
of physical agony. A common friend has preserved a 
record of the edifying scenes presented in her sickness and 
death, a portion of which we subjoin. 
22* 



258 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" One day, after she had lain some time in an almost 
insensible state, a friend tried her with a few texts of Scrip- 
ture ; she suddenly burst forth, ' Can any thing be finer than 
that ? it quite makes one's face shine !' Towards the latter 
part of her illness, she asked one day to have a little girl, in 
whom she was interested, brought to her. She could only 
deliver herself in short sentences, but her words were, ' God 
bless thee, my dear child ; love God ; serve God ; love to 
pray to God more than to do any other thing.' Mrs. II. 
More asked her if she had comfort in her mind ? ' Yes,' 
she replied, ' I have no uncomfort at all.' She was then 
asked if she knew some friend that was in the room ? f Oh ! 
yes,' she answered, 'I know every body, and remember 
every thing.' 'Ah, poor dear soul,' said one of her attend- 
ants, she remembers her sufferings too ! ' 6 No,' she answered 
in a tone of the most affecting resignation, * I do not think 
of them.' When she was supposed to be very near her last 
hour, on her medical attendant's wishing her a good morning, 
she raised her hands in a holy transport, exclaiming, ' Oh 
for the glorious morning of the resurrection ! — but there are 
some gray clouds between ! ' She then blessed him and all 
his family, and exhorted him to love God, and to take care 
of his soul. ' Oh,' she exclaimed, ' if this should be the 
blessed hour of my deliverance, may I die the death of the 
righteous, and may my last thoughts be thoughts of faithful- 
ness ! ' The following day she awoke suddenly out of a 
tranquil sleep, crying out in a rapture, ' Blessing, and honor, 
and glory, and power, be unto the Lamb, — hallelujah ! ' 
Another morning, when she was imagined to be in the very 
act of dying, recovering herself a little, she murmured out, 
* When shall I come to these things — grace — mercy — 
peace ! ' She then asked for a little cold water, and turning 
her head towards a nurse who was attending her, ' Do you 
know who it was that said, 'A cup of cold water given in my 
name ? ' 

"Again, in the intervals between her wanderings and the 
extremity of pain, she exclaimed incessantly, ' Oh the blood 
of Christ ! He died for me ! God was man ! May his 
blood be shed on me ! Lord, let the light of thy countc- 



HANNAH MORE. 259 

nance shine upon me. When shall I appear before God V 
And then half bewildered again, she cried out earnestly to 
her sister, 'Patty, do love the blessed God. Lord, shield 
me with the wings of thy love.' After a little interval, she 
said to Mrs. H. More, ' I hope I have had all my stripes ; 
Lord ! I am ready, finish the work ! ' On awakening in the 
afternoon, she again poured forth this ejaculation, ' Lord ! look 
down upon me with the light of thy salvation ; let thy Holy 
Spirit shine upon me. Look, Lord ! upon thy afflicted 
servant.' Somebody present saying to her, ' The Lord will 
release you, and take you out of your pain,' she seemed to 
fear, lest she had betrayed some impatience, and immediately 
answered, 'Aye, in his own good time.' She then broke out 
into the Gloria Patri, and added, ' Lord, look down upon a 
poor penitent, humble, contrite sinner.' 

" Nearly three days now passed, either in strong delirium, 
or total stupor, at the end of which time she became more 
composed, and, as at every other time, uttered no sentence 
in which supplication or praise was not mingled. Her chief 
cry on this day was for pardon and sanctification, and she 
charged her sisters to strive for the gift of the Holy Spirit. 
Her wanderings w T ere frequent, but whether sensible or inco- 
herent, calm or agitated, still the names of her God and her 
Saviour were constantly on her tongue. 

" Her sister asked her if she knew her ; she answered, 
' I know nobody but Christ.' In the evening of her last day 
but one, though scarcely able to articulate, she murmured 
out to those who stood around her, ' Talk of the cross — the 
precious cross — the King of love.' On the very morning 
of her blessed and quiet release from an earthly existence, 
though no longer able to swallow food, or discern any out- 
ward object, she was still enabled to give an evidence of the 
heavenly frame of her mind ; a friend repeating to her that 
heart-sustaining assurance, ' the blood of Christ cleanseth 
from all sin,' she pronounced with a devout motion of her 
hands and eyes, ' cleanseth,' and a moment after, ' Blessed 
Jesus ! ' and these were the last of her words that could be 
collected. It is scarcely necessary to repeat, after such a rela- 
tion, that her whole conduct, during her conflict with this last 



260 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

enemy, was one uniform and uninterrupted display (when 
she was in possession of her faculties) of those fruits of the 
Spirit enumerated by the apostle, ' love, joy, peace, meek- 
ness, long-suffering, faith ; ' and it only remains for us to pray 
that our latter end may be like hers." 

Miss More was now herself attacked with severe sickness, 
and her friends anticipated with pain her decease ; she how- 
ever rallied, and was enabled to write and publish her 
" Moral Sketches," another work of great popularity and use- 
fulness. At the age of seventy-five, she was left alone by the 
death of Martha, her only surviving sister, but she still vig- 
orously carried on the plan of the schools which had been so 
successful under the united superintendence of the sisters. 
In the autumn of 1820, her health began sensibly to decline. 
Some of her observations, during this season of infirmity, are 
peculiarly edifying, and from these we extract the following : 

" She never, when able to speak, forbore long from break- 
ing forth into a repetition of some of the most beautiful and 
applicable parts of the Psalms, as the twenty-seventh, much 
of the forty-sixth, and the ninetieth; and one day after she 
had been solacing her weary spirit, she remarked, ' 'Tis per- 
haps a low idea of heaven, but one not void of comfort to 
me who rests so very ill in general, to think that there will 
be no night there, — also it is a land the inhabitants of which 
will no more say I am sick.' She one day observed, < that 
such lengthened sufferings showed how greatly she needed 
purification ; ' and being told of the death of a neighbor, a 
very amiable and worthy man, after a short illness, she said, 
'Ah, how many more stripes I have needed than he ! a few 
days' suffering carried him to his rest, while I have required 
many, many months ! ' She then added, ' but I have been 
favored with so many more talents and opportunities than he 
enjoyed ! ' Speaking of her state of burning fever, she said, 
4 Nothing but the last icy hand will cool me — poor Patty ! 
I shall very soon rejoin her ! ' and added, ' how short is the 



HANNAH MORE. 261 

longest suffering ! eternity is long enough to be happy in ; a 
thousand years are to Him but as one day ! I trust I have 
not a wish or a hope, but that the Lord should do as it 
seemeth good unto him. I hope I shall feel the same peni- 
tence and submission as dear Patty did. I have great com- 
fort and quietness in my mind, and except in the anguish of 
extreme suffering, when the body will be disturbed, I hope it 
may be said, I bear my sickness patiently. What a treasure 
are the Psalms of David for Christians in every age ! — That 
a shepherd boy with his harp should furnish material for the 
devotion of successive generations to the end of time ! * Be 
strong, and He shall comfort your hearts ; ' and put ye your 
trust in the Lord. Oh, tarry thou the Lord's leisure — He 
himself is the portion of my inheritance, and of my cup! 
When w T e are upon the brink of eternity, how do all earthly 
things sink into their merited littleness ! this is the point 
from whence to view them. ' God, thou art my God, my 
soul thirsteth after thee.' " And again : " In the course 
of conversation, she spoke of the joys of heaven, and said, 
4 It is delightful to know that they will be unspeakable and 
full of glory : rest in the bosom of God and the Saviour, and 
a full enjoyment of his presence, chiefly present themselves 
to my mind. The meeting with dear friends will, I should 
think, constitute a part of our felicity, but a very subordinate 
one ; like Whitfield, I think we shall be apt to say, ' Stand 
back, and keep me not from the sight of my Saviour.' 
' Important as doctrines are,' she observed, ' yet except the 
leading ones, for which we ought to be ready to be led to the 
stake, they yield much with me to the purifying of the 
inward hidden man of the heart. Conformity to God, a 
walking in his steps, spiritual-mindeclness, a subduing the old 
Adam within us — here is the grand difficulty, and the accept- 
able offering to God ! It is observable,' she remarked, ' that 
in the introductory verses to almost all St. Paul's Epistles, 
he says, ' Grace, mercy, and peace,' — peace comes after 
grace and mercy." 

She recovered in a measure from this illness, but continued 
in a state of great weakness during the remainder of her 



262 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

life. In 1833, her symptoms became rapidly aggravated, and 
foretokened her speedy dissolution. She was now eighty-eight 
years of age, venerable for her years, piety, and command- 
ing intellect. Her last sickness and death were worthy the 
high Christian profession that she had made, and are full of 
subduing and comforting lessons for the believer. The 
majesty and power of heavenly grace in its triumph over 
age, weakness, and death, are most impressively exhibited. 
These hours are thus recorded by her biographer: 

"It has already been observed, that as the life of Hannah 
More approached its termination, her thoughts often travelled 
to far distant scenes, and seemed sometimes to be lost in 
visions of eternity. The forces that kept the citadel seemed 
to be gradually disappearing, except those clear thoughts 
and holy certainties which still sustained her spirits, and 
suffered neither sadness nor distrust to intrude upon her last 
hours. Amid all her wanderings, she was coherent and con- 
sistent on whatever bad an immediate relation to the place 
to which she was going." 

" Upon one occasion," says the faithful friend who was 
always about her dying bed, in the early part of her illness, 
"I read to her the office for the visitation of the sick, and the 
burial service in the Book of Common Prayer. She was 
still, and engaged while I was reading, with her hands clasped 
in devotion. Some of the verses in the Psalms, after I had 
begun them, she would finish, exclaiming with rapture, 
' How beautiful, how sweet — delighting the taste and touch- 
ing the heart.' The fifty-first Psalm was continually on her 
lips : ' Create in me a new heart, and renew a right spirit 
within me. Cast me not away from thy presence, and take 
not thy Holy Spirit from me.' " 

u When the prison-doors were open, and her soul was on the 
point of escaping to its true home, though a thick veil was 



HANNAH MORE. 263 

spread over the world she was leaving, no look of regret, 
but one of sweet sympathy, with its trials and sorrows, was 
often cast behind her ; nor could the awful change which 
awaited her, dislodge from her heart that love of souls which 
had supported her through so many years of bodily suffering 
in her various works of Christian beneficence. Prayer was 
the last thing that lived in her, — every breath was prayer ; 
and in the vital energy of her expiring petitions, her affec- 
tionate friends, and those that administered to her wants, 
and soothed her last conflict, were earnestly commended to 
the great Advocate of repentant sinners. The lady who 
had long taken such kind care of her, and was kneeling at 
her bedside, was thus addressed by her shortly before her 
departure: 'I love you, my dear child, with fervency. It 
will be pleasant to you twenty years hence to remember that 
I said this on my death-bed. Be near me, and with me as 
much as you can, will you? I may last out a few days — 
how long does the doctor think I shall live ? ' ' She was 
always,' says this lady, 'bestowing blessings on those 
around her, and hoping that she should meet in a happier 
world — in an eternal and glorious world ; ' and when she 
was told of some presents made in her name to those who 
were employed in her service, with a smile almost amounting 
to a laugh, she exclaimed, ' I am glad of it, glad of it.' 
Adverting to her own frame of spirit, she said, * I hope my 
temper is not peevish or troublesome ; ' and on being 
answered that it was the temper of an angel, she said, ' 
no, not of an angel, but of a very highly favored servant of 
the Lord, my Saviour.' 

" The Psalms, and other passages of Scripture, were per- 
petually breaking from her lips ; and it seemed extraordinary 
to those who were about her, that her memory, which had 
let almost every terrestrial impression slip away, had kept 



264 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the registry of her devout recollections unobliterated and 
unimpaired. The loins of her mind were girded up, and 
her soul braced, as it were, to meet without amazement 
the strange and awful encounter which was approaching. 
Like one preparing for a great expedition, all impediments 
were thrown aside, all but the necessary implements to set 
up her tabernacle in the place of her destination and final 
rest." 

" The philosophical reader, when he contemplates this buoy- 
ancy of hope and trust amid the languors of a last sickness, 
at an age verging on four score years and ten, will find a 
difficulty in accounting for it by any analogies of nature ; 
and if he is determined to see nothing supernatural in it, he 
must be content to sit down in ignorance and wonder ; but 
to the Christian inquirer the phenomenon will show itself 
under another aspect ; he will see, and adore in it the Spirit's 
work and the succors of Divine help ; he will see in it the 
proc ess of a second birth in a dying child of Adam ; he will 
see in it the funeral of death, its sting extracted, the grave 
spoiled, and Satan discomfited ; he will find in it the best 
comment upon the Psalmist's exclamation, ' Right dear in 
the sight of the Lord is the death of his Saints.' " 

To save space, we lay before our Christian readers the 
sentiments which escaped from her lips during the latter 
portion of her last illness, requesting them not to forget that 
at this period, she had arrived at her eighty-ninth year. 

" She said to those who surrounded her, * Grow in grace, 
and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ ; Jesus is all 
in all. God of grace, God of light, God of love, whom 
have I in heaven but thee ? ' When very sick, she said, 
i What can I do ! What can I not do with Christ ? I know 
that my Redeemer liveth. Happy, happy are those who are 
expecting to be together in another world. The thought of 



HANNAH MORE. 265 

that world lifts the mind above itself. My God, my God, I 
bless thy holy name. Oh the love of Christ, the love of 
Christ ! Mercy, Lord, is all I ask ! I am never tired of 
prayer. I pray to God to forgive my offences, to make me 
humble, and to look unto Jesus, the author and finisher of 
our faith. Lord, establish, strengthen us ! The heavens 
declare the glory of God ; how I love that Psalm ! Oh 
eternal, immortal Lord, I prostrate myself before thee, utterly 
unworthy of thy mercy. Holy Lord, into thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit ! into thy hands I commend my unworthy 
self — unworthy but penitent.' Upon being asked if any- 
thing could be done to make her more comfortable, she said, 
i Nothing, but love me, and forgive me when I am impa- 
tient.' Upon her servant's proposing to read a chapter to 
her she said, ' What are you going to read ? ' and upon 
being told the resurrection of Christ, she said, ' If we meet 
at his feet, we shall be equal ! ' She said to her attendant, 
who had been repeating some psalms and hymns, ' You can- 
not have your mind too much stored with these things ; when 
you get old, or are in solitude, they will supply you with 
comfort.' She often exclaimed, ' Lord have mercy upon 
me; Christ have mercy upon me, and make me patient 
under my sufferings. Take away my perverse and selfish 
spirit, and give me a conformity to thy will. May thy will 
be done in me, and by me, to thy praise and glory: I desire 
only to be found at the foot of the cross. Lord I am thine, 
I am not my own, I am bought with a price, a precious price, 
even the death of the Lord Jesus Christ. Lord, have mercy 
upon me, and grant me an abundant entrance into thy King- 
dom! Jesus, my Saviour and my Friend.' Again, 'Raise 
my desires, purify my affections, sanctify my soul. To go 
to heaven — think what that is ! To go to my Saviour, who 
died that I might live. Lord humble me, and subdue every 



266 THE EMINENT DEAD, 

evil temper in me. May we meet in a robe of glory ; 
through Christ's merits we can alone be saved ! Look down, 

Lord, upon thy unworthy servant with eyes of compas- 
sion.' Feeling herself linger in her sickness, she said to a 
friend, < My dear, do people never die ? Oh glorious grave ! 

1 pray for those I love, and for those I pity and do not love.' 
She said, ' It pleases God to afflict me, not for his pleasure, 
but to do me good, to make me humble and thankful ; Lord, 
I believe, I do believe with all the powers of my weak sinful 
heart. Lord Jesus, look down upon me from thy holy hab- 
itation, strengthen my faith, and quicken me in my prepara- 
tion ! Support me in that trying hour when I most need it ! 
It is a glorious thing to die ! ' When one talked to her of 
her good deeds, she said, ' Talk not so vainly. I utterly 
cast them from me, and fall low at the foot of the cross.' 

" During this illness of ten months, the time was passed in 
a series of alternations between restlessness and composure, 
long sleeps and long wakefulness, with occasional great 
excitement, elevated and sunken spirits. At length nature 
seemed to shrink from further conflict, and the time of her 
deliverance drew near. On Friday, the 6th of September, 
1833, we offered up the morning family devotion by her 
bedside; she was silent, and apparently attentive, with her 
hands devoutly lifted up. From eight of the evening of 
this day till nearly nine, I sat watching her. Her face was 
smooth and glowing. There was an unusual brightness in 
its expression. She smiled, and endeavoring to raise her- 
self a little from her pillow, she reached out her arms as if 
catching at something, and while making this effort, she 
once called " Patty," (the name of her last and dearest 
sister,) very plainly, and exclaimed, " Joy ! " In this state 
of quietness and inward peace, she remained about an hour. 
At half past nine o'clock, Dr. Carrick came. The pulse 



HANNAH MORE. 267 

had become extremely quick and weak. At about ten, the 
symptoms of speedy departure could not be doubted. She 
breathed softly, and looked serene. The pulse became fainter 
and fainter, and as quick as lightning. It was almost 
extinct from twelve o'clock, when the whole frame was 
serene. With the exception of a sigh or a groan, there was 
nothing but the gentle breathing of infant sleep. Contrary 
to expectation, she survived the night. At six o'clock on 
Saturday morning, I sent in for Miss Roberts. She lasted 
out till ten minutes after one, when I saw the last gentle 
breath escape ; and one more was added to that multitude 
which no man can number, who sing the praises of God and 
of the Lamb for ever and ever." 

" Death is an equal doom 
To good and bad, the common inn of rest; 
But after death the trial is to come, 
When best shall be to them that lived best" 

Spencer. 



ROBERT HALL, A. M. 

Robert Hall was born at Arnsby, a small village not far 
from Leicester, England, on the 2d of May, 1764, his father 
being the pastor of a Baptist congregation in that place. At 
a very early age, he manifested the utmost ardor in the pur- 
suit of knowledge, and exhibited an interest in books of the 
highest intellectual character, scarcely ever paralleled in the 
recorded lives of the most precocious children. 

"At about six years of age, he was placed, as a day 
scholar, under the Charge of a Mr. Simmons, of Wigston, a 



268 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

village about four miles from Arnsby. At first, he walked to 
school in the mornings and home again in the evenings. But 
the severe pain in his back, from which he suffered so much 
through life, had even then begun to distress him ; so that 
he was obliged to lie down upon the road, and sometimes his 
brother John and his other school-fellows carried him, in turn, 
he repaying them, during their labor, by relating some 
amusing story, or detailing some of the interesting results of 
his reading. On his father's ascertaining his inability to 
walk so far daily, he took lodgings for him and his brother 
at the house of a friend in the village ; after this arrange- 
ment was made, they went to Wigston on the Monday 
mornings, and returned to Arnsby on the Saturday after- 
noons. The course of instruction at Mr. Simmons's school 
was not very extensive ; and Robert was not likely to restrict 
himself, as a student, to its limits. On starting from home 
on the Monday, it was his practice to take with him two or 
three books from his father's library, that he might read 
them in the intervals between the school hours. The books 
he selected were not those of mere amusement, but such as 
required deep and serious thought. The works of Jonathan 
Edwards, for example, were among his favorites ; and it is 
an ascertained fact, that before he was nine years of age, he 
had perused and re-perused, with intense interest, the trea- 
tises of that profound and extraordinary thinker, on the 
'Affections ' and on the Will. About the same time, he read, 
with like interest, Butler's Analogy. He used to ascribe 
his early predilection for this class of studies, in great meas- 
ure, to his intimate association, in mere childhood, with a 
tailor, one of his father's congregation, a very shrewd, well 
informed man, and an acute metaphysician. Before he was 
ten years old, he had written many essays, principally on 
religious subjects ; and often invited his brother and sisters 



ROBERT HALL. 269 

to hear him preach. About this time, too, in one of those 
anticipatory distributions of a father's property, which I 
apprehend are not unusual with boys, he proposed that his 
brother should have the cows, sheep, and the pigs, on their 
father's death, and leave him ' all the books.' These 
juvenile ' dividers ' of the ' inheritance ' seem to have over- 
looked their sisters: unless, indeed, they assigned them 
the furniture. The incident, however, is mentioned simply 
to show what it was that Robert even then most prized. He 
remained in Mr. Simmons's school until he was eleven years 
of age, when this conscientious master informed the father 
that he was quite unable to keep pace with his pupil, declaring 
that he had often been obliged to sit up all night to prepare 
the lessons for the morning ; a practice he could no longer con- 
tinue, and therefore must relinquish his favorite scholar." * 

The extraordinary talents of his son, and his devotional 
feelings and habits, induced his father to take such measures 
as his limited means and Robert's delicate health would 
admit to secure him an education suitable for a Christian 
minister, should the providence of God seem to smile upon 
such a course. 

He was placed under the charge of Rev. John Ryland, 
of Northampton, where he remained a year and a half, mak- 
ing great proficiency in his Latin and Greek. In his fifteenth 
year, he entered the Bristol Institution, a seat of learning 
established by the Baptist denomination for the instruction 
of young men of their communion preparing for the oflice 
of the sacred ministry. 

In 1780, after a careful inquiry as to his religious experi- 
ence and call to the ministry, the church over which his 
father presided, requested that he might be solemnly set 
apart and ordained to the work of his calling. His early 

* Gregory's Life of Hall. 



270 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

efforts, although in the providence of God some of them 
were humbling to his intellectual pride, gave abundant evi- 
dence of the extraordinary talents possessed by the young 
preacher. While in the Institution, it was customary for 
the students to write and deliver short discourses before the 
faculty, and such as might please to attend upon these occa- 
sions. Agreeably to this arrangement, he was appointed 
to deliver an address 

" In the vestry of Broadmead chapel, on 1 Tim. iv. 10 — 
* Therefore, we both labor and suffer reproach, because we 
trust in the living God, who is the Saviour of all men ; 
especially of those that believe.' After proceeding for a 
short time, much to the gratification of his auditory, he sud- 
denly paused, covered his face with his hands, exclaimed, 
4 Oh ! I have lost all my ideas,' and sat down, his hands still 
hiding his face. The failure, however painful as it was to 
his tutors, and humiliating to himself, was such as rather 
augmented than diminished their persuasion of what he could 
accomplish, if once he acquired self-possession. He was, 
therefore, appointed to speak again, on the same subject, at 
the same place, the ensuing week. This second attempt was 
accompanied by a second failure, still more painful to wit- 
ness, and still more grievous to bear. He hastened from the 
vestry, and on returning to his room, exclaimed, '-lathis 
does not humble me, the devil must have me! ' Such were 
the early efforts of him whose humility afterwards became as 
conspicuous as his talents, and who, for nearly half a cen- 
tury, excited universal attention and admiration, by the 
splendor of his pulpit eloquence. Our student spent the 
first summer vacation, after his entering the Bristol institu- 
tion, under the paternal roof at Arnsby ; and, in the course 
of that residence at home, accompanied his father to some 
public religious service at Clipstone, a village in Northamp- 
tonshire. Mr. Hall, senior, and Mr. Beddome, of Bourton, 
well known by his Hymns, and his truly valuable Sermons, 
were both engaged to preach. But the latter, being much 
struck with the appearance, and some of the remarks, of the 



ROBERT HALL. 271 

son of his friend, was exceedingly anxious that he should 
preach in the evening, and proposed to relinquish his own 
engagement, rather than be disappointed. To this injudi- 
cious proposal, after resisting every importunity for some 
time, he at length yielded, and entered the pulpit to address 
an auditory of ministers, many of whom he had been accus- 
tomed from his infancy to regard with the utmost reverence. 
He selected for his text, 1 John i. 5, ' God is light, and in 
Him is no darkness at all ; ' and it is affirmed, treated this 
mysterious and awful subject with such metaphysical acu- 
men, and drew from it such an impressive application, as 
excited the deepest interest." 

A year after his ordination, having pursued his ministerial 
studies with great diligence, he embraced a providential 
opportunity to enter King's College, Aberdeen. He pursued 
his classical, scientific, and especially his metaphysical studies, 
with great interest and success, ranking among the first for 
scholarship and brilliant intellect in the Institution of which 
he became a member. While here, he was requested by the 
church at Broadmead to become an associate pastor with 
their clergyman, Dr. Caleb Evans ; and he passed some six 
months, between the College sessions of 1784 and 1785, at 
Bristol, returning again to Aberdeen to complete his course. 

" By the time Mr. Hall had thus completed his academical 
course, his mental powers, originally strong, had attained an 
extraordinary vigor ; and with the exception of the Hebrew 
language, of which he knew nothing, he had become rich in 
literary, intellectual, and biblical acquisitions. On resuming 
his labors at Broadmead, in conjunction with Dr. Evans, his 
preaching excited an unusual attention ; the place of worship 
was often crowded to excess ; and many of the most distin- 
guished men in Bristol, including several clergymen, were 
among his occasional auditors. This popularity not only 
continued, but increased, until he was removed to another 
sphere of action. The brilliancy and force of his eloquence 



272 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

were universally acknowledged, while in private life, his 
instructive and fascinating conversation drew equal admira- 
tion. Yet it ought not to be concealed (for I simply 
announce his own deliberate conviction, frequently expressed 
in after life,) that at this time he was very inadequately 
qualified for the duties of a minister of the Gospel." 

But this preparation an ever watchful providence secured 
by a combination of humbling and instructive events. 

He was now appointed to be the classical tutor of the 
Baptist Academy, an office that he held with great honor to 
himself and benefit to his classes for the five succeeding 
years. 

A painful misunderstanding arising between himself and 
Dr. Evans, he was prepared to accept an invitation from 
the church at Cambridge to become their pastor. 

" The death of Mr. Hall's father, which occurred in 
March, 1791, had indeed tended greatly to bring his mind to 
the state of serious thought, with which he now entered upon 
the pastoral office. Meditating with the deepest veneration, 
upon the unusual excellencies of a parent now for ever lost 
to him, he was led to investigate, with renewed earnestness, 
the truth as well as the value of those high and sacred prin- 
ciples from which his eminent piety and admirable con- 
sistency so evidently flowed. He called to mind, too, 
several occasions on which his father, partly by force of 
reason, partly by tender expostulation, had exhorted him to 
abandon the vague and dangerous speculations to which he 
■was prone. Some important changes in Mr. Hall's senti- 
ments resulted from an inquiry conducted under such solemn 
impressions ; and among these may be mentioned his renun- 
ciation of materialism, which he often declared ' he buried in 
his father's grave.' Attentive to the voice of heavenly 
admonition, thus addressing him from various quarters, he 
entered upon his new duties with earnest desires that he 
might be able ' to commend himself to every man's con- 
science in the sight of God.' Feeling that to him was con- 



ROBERT HALL. 273 

signed the charge of transforming, with God's assistance, a 
cold and sterile soil into a fruitful field, he determined not to 
satisfy himself with half measures, but proceeded to expose 
error, and defend what he regarded as essential truth. The 
first sermon, therefore, which he delivered at Cambridge, 
after he had assumed the office of pastor, was on the doc- 
trine of the atonement, and its practical tendencies. Imme- 
diately after the conclusion of the service, one of the con- 
gregation, who had followed poor Mr. Robinson through all 
his changes of sentiment, went into the vestry and said, 
' Mr. Hall, this preaching won't do for us ; it will only suit a 
congregation of old women.' ' Do you mean my sermon, or 
the doctrine ? ' ' Your doctrine.'' i Why is it that the doc- 
trine is fit only for old women ? ' ' Because it may suit the 
musings of people tottering upon the brink of the grave, and 
who are eagerly seeking comfort.' ' Thank you, sir, for your 
concession. The doctrine will not suit people of any age 
unless it be true ; and if it be true, it is not fitted for old 
women alone, but is equally important at every age.' This 
individual, and three or four other men of influence, with 
about twenty from the poorer classes, shortly after withdrew 
from the congregation." 

Some five or six years after his settlement in Cambridge, 
Dr. Gregory, his biographer, then a young man, became 
acquainted with him, and almost a member of the family 
circle where he boarded. He thus speaks of his friend and 
instructor : 

" When I first saw Mr. Hall, I was struck with his well- 
proportioned, athletic figure, the unassuming dignity of his 
deportment, the winning frankness which marked all that he 
uttered; and the peculiarities of the most speaking counte- 
nance I ever contemplated, animated by eyes radiating with 
the brilliancy imparted to them by benevolence, wit, and 
intellectual energy. When he spoke, except in the most 
ordinary chit-chat, to which, however, lie seldom descended, 
he seemed not merely to communicate words, but himself; 



274 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and I then first learnt the difference between one who feels 
while he is speaking, and whose communicative features tell 
you that he does, and one who, after he has spoken long and 
with apparent earnestness, still does not feel. I then learnt, 
that though talents may convey their results to others, and 
activity may carry on others in its stream, yet there is 
something distinct in the structure of a great mind, which 
can never be so transferred to another as to become its native 
characteristic. Mr. Hall had a buoyancy and playfulness, 
when among his select friends, which were remarkably cap- 
tivating. Among strangers, there was* a reserve for a short 
time ; but it was soon shaken off, especially if he found that 
they were pious or intelligent. The presence of a man who 
gave himself airs of condescension usually induced him to 
remain silent or retire. He could enjoy the society of men 
of moderate information ; and it was interesting to observe 
how, by a few apt questions, he would ascertain in what 
direction their pursuits lay, and then so draw them out as to 
give them the pleasure of feeling that they were contributing 
to his stock of that knowledge which they could not but 
think useful. He was eminently alive to the emotions of 
piety ; an affection always calculated to inspire attachment, 
but which in a man of abstract habits is, I fear, very unusual. 
He was generous by nature, as well as upon principle, and 
in seasons of affliction would remarkably identify himself 
with those who most needed sympathy. He rather avoided 
than sought expressions of thankfulness; and sometimes, 
when he became oppressed by them, would hastily say, 
4 Thank you, thank you ; you have said more than enough ; 
remember, God has sent into the world a more powerful and 
more noble sentiment than even gratitude.' For some years 
he made it a rule to pay a pastoral visit to every member of 
his church once a quarter. He did the same also with regard 
to such of his ordinary hearers' as he thought willing to 
receive him as a minister of religion. These were not calls, 
but visits, and usually paid on evenings, that he might meet 
the whole assembled family. Among the lower classes, to 
make them quite at their ease, he would sit down. with them 
at their supper ; and, that this might involve them in no 



ROBERT HALL. 275 

extra expense, he took care that they should all know that 
he preferred a bason of milk. He persuaded the poorer mem- 
bers of his church to form little meetings, for reading, reli- 
gious conversation, and prayer, going from ' house to house.' 
These were held once a fortnight, I think, in the summer 
time ; once a week during the winter. He made it a point 
of official duty to attend them frequently ; and regarded 
them, with the weekly meetings in the vestry, as the best 
thermometer for ascertaining the religious state of his peo- 
ple. In him all was at the utmost remove from gloom or 
moroseness. Even the raillery in which he indulged showed 
his good nature, and was exceedingly playful ; and notwith- 
standing the avowed and lamented impetuosity in argument 
to which he was prone, nothing, as far as I ever saw, but 
conceit, engrafted upon stupidity, provoked his impatience, 
and called forth a severity which he hardly knew how to 
restrain. With regard to disposition, the predominant fea- 
tures were kindness and cheerfulness. He never deliberately 
gave pain to any one, except in those few extreme cases 
where there appeared a moral necessity of ' rebuking sharply * 
for the good of the offender. His kindness to children, to 
servants, to the indigent, nay, to animals, was uniformly 
manifest. And such was his prevailing cheerfulness, that he 
seemed to move and breathe in an atmosphere of hilarity, 
which, indeed, his countenance always indicated, except 
when the pain in his back affected his spirits, and caused his 
imagination to dwell on the evils of Cambridgeshire scenery. 
At that period, though he was strong and active, he often 
suffered extremely from the pain to which I have before 
adverted, and which was his sad companion through life. On 
entering his room, I could at once tell whether or not his 
night had been refreshing ; for if it had, I found him at the 
table, the books to be studied ready, and a vacant chair set 
for me. If his night had been restless, and the pain still 
continued, I found him lying on the sofa, or more frequently 
upon four chairs, on which he could obtain an easier position. 
At such seasons, scarcely ever did a complaint issue from 
his lips ; but inviting me to take the sofa, our reading com- 
menced. They, however, who knew Mr. Hall, can conjee- 



276 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ture how often, if he became interested, he would raise him- 
self from his chairs, utter a few animated expressions, and 
then resume his favorite reclining posture. Sometimes, when 
he was suffering more than usual, he proposed a walk in the 
fields, where, with the appropriate book as our companion, 
we could pursue the subject. If he was the preceptor, as 
was commonly the case in these peripatetic lectures, he soon 
lost the sense of pain, and nearly as soon escaped from our 
author, whoever he might be, and expatiated at large upon 
some train of inquiry or explication which our course of read- 
ing had suggested. As his thoughts enkindled, both his steps 
and his words became quicker, until, ere long, it was difficult 
to say whether the body or the mind were brought most upon 
the stretch in keeping up with him. This peculiarity I have 
noticed in a few other men of vigorous intellect and lively 
imagination. Still farther to illustrate Mr. Hall's character, 
his turn of thought and expression, I will now bring together 
a few such incidents and short remarks, occurring between 
1796 and 1803, as present themselves most vividly to my 
mind. It will already have appeared that benevolence was 
a prevailing characteristic. When he had aided a poor man 
to the full extent of his pecuniary means, he would sometimes 

apply to one of his affluent friends : ' Poor is in great 

distress ; some of his family are ill, and he cannot supply 
proper necessaries. Lend me five shillings for the poor fel- 
low. I will pay you again in a fortnight, unless in the mean 
time you find that the case deserves your help, and then the 
donation shall become yours.' His disapprobation of avarice 
bore a natural relation to his own benevolence. Being 
informed that a rich man in the neighborhood, who was by 
no means celebrated for his liberality, had attended to a tale 
of distress without relieving it, he said, 'Yes — yes; he 
would listen, but without inclining his head. He may lend 
a distant ear to the murmurings from the vale beneath, but 
he remains like a mountain covered with perpetual snow.' 
On another occasion, a person talking to him of one whom 
they both knew, and who was very penurious, said: 'Poor 
wretch ! you might put his soul in a nut-shell.' •' Yes, sir,' 
Mr. Hall replied, ' and even then it would creep out a mag- 



ROBERT HALL. 277 

got hole/ His love of sincerity in words and actions was 
constantly apparent. Once, while he was spending an eve- 
ning at the house of a friend, a lady who was there on a 
visit retired, that her little girl of four years old might go to 
bed. She returned in about half an hour, and said to a lady 
near her, ' She is gone to sleep. I put on my night-cap 
and lay down by her, and she soon dropped off.' Mr. Hall, 
who overheard this, said, ' Excuse me, madam, do you wish 
your child to grow up a liar V ' Oh dear, no sir ! I should 
be shocked at such a thing.' ' Then bear with me while I 
say you must never act a lie before her. Children are very 
quick observers, and soon learn that that which assumes to 
be what it is not is a lie, whether acted or spoken.' This 
was uttered with a kindness which precluded offence, yet 
with a seriousness that could not be forgotten. His dis- 
like to compliments was thus expressed : ' In compliments 
two and two do not make four ; and twenty and twenty fall 
very far short of forty. Deal not then in that deceitful 
arithmetic' It was said in Mr, Hall's hearing, that ' com- 
pliments were pleasing truths, and flatteries pleasing un- 
truths.' He remarked : ' Neither of them are pleasing to 
a man of reflection, for the falsehoods in this case so nearly 
assume the semblance of truth, that one is perplexed to tell 
which is actually given ; and no man is pleased with per- 
plexity.' 'You remember Mr. , sir?' 'Yes, very 

well.' * Were you aware of his fondness for brandy and 
water?' 'No.' 'It was a sad habit, and grew out of his 
fondness for story-telling ; and that also is a bad habit, a very 
bad habit, for a minister of the Gospel. As he grew old, 
his animal spirits flagged, and his stories became defective in 
vivacity; he therefore took to brandy and water; weak 
enough, it is true, at first, but soon nearly half-and-half. 
Ere long he indulged the habit in a morning ; and when he 
came to Cambridge he would call upon me, and before he 
had been with me five minutes, ask for brandy and water, 
which was, of course, to give him artificial spirits to render 
him agreeable in his visits to others. I felt great difficulty, 
for he, you know, sir, was much older than I was : yet, being 
persuaded that the ruin of his character, if not of his peace, 

24 



278 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

was inevitable, unless something was done, I resolved upon 
one strong effort for his rescue. So the next time that he 
called, and, as usual, said, ■ Friend Hall, I will thank you for 
a glass of brandy and water,' I replied, ' Call things by their 
right names, and you shall have as much as you please.' 
' Why, don't I employ the right name ? I ask for a glass of 
brandy and water.' ' That is the current, but not the appro- 
priate name : ask for a glass of liquid fire and distilled dam- 
nation, and you shall have a gallon ! Poor man ! he turned 
pale, and for a moment seemed struggling with anger. But, 
knowing that I did not mean to insult him, he stretched out 
his hand, and said,' ' Brother Hall, I thank you from the 
bottom of my heart.' ' From that time he ceased to take- 
brandy and water.' 

"A lady who had been speaking of the Divine Being with 
great familiarity, but in religious phraseology, having retired, 
he said : i I wish I knew how to cure that good lady of her 
bad habit. I have tried, but as yet in vain. It is a great 
mistake to affect this kind of familiarity with the King of 
kings, and speak of him as though he were a next door 
neighbor, from the pretence of love. Mr. Boyle's well- 
known habit was infinitely to be commended. And one of 
our old divines, I forget which, well remarks, that, Noth- 
ing but ignorance can be guilty of this boldness ; that there 
is no divinity but in a humble fear, no philosophy but shows 
itself in silent admiration.' When two or three gentlemen 
were discussing the question, whether a man of no religion 
can be a successful minister of the Gospel, surprise was 
expressed that Mr. Hall remained silent. ' Sir,' said he in 
reply, I would not deny that a sermon from a bad man may 
sometimes do good; but the general question does not 
admit of an argument. Is it at all probable, that one who is 
a willing servant of Satan, (and that, you know, sir, is the 
hypothesis you assume,) will fight against him with all his 
might ; and if not, what success can be rationally expected ? ' 
Mr. Hall did not permit the sedulous cultivation of the mind 
to draw him aside from the cultivation of the heart. The 
evidences were, indeed, very strong, that his preparation for 
ministerial duty was devotional as well as intellectual. Thus, 



ROBERT HALL. 279 

his public services, by a striking gradation, for months and 
years, evinced an obvious growth in mental power, in literary 
acquisition, and in the serious affection, and ardor of a 
man of piety. His usefulness and his popularity increased ; 
and in 1798 it was found necessary to enlarge the place of 
worship, to accommodate about two hundred more persons. 
Early in the year 1799, a severe fever, which brought him, 
in his own apprehension and in that of his friends, to the 
brink of the grave, gave him an opportunity of experiencing 
the support yielded by the doctrines of the Cross in the near 
' views of death and the judgment.' He ' never before felt 
his mind so calm and happy.' The impression was not only 
salutary, but abiding ; and it again prompted him to the 
investigation of one or two points, with regard to which he 
had long felt himself floating in uncertainty. Although he 
had for some years steadily and earnestly enforced the 
necessity of divine influence in the transformation of char- 
acter, and in perseverance in a course of consistent, holy 
obedience, yet he spoke of it as the ' influence of the Spirit 
of God,' and never in express terms as the ' influence of the 
Holy Spirit.' The reason was, that though he fully believed 
the necessity of spiritual life, he doubted the doctrine of the 
distinct personality of the Holy Spirit. But about this time 
he was struck with the fact that, whenever in private prayer 
he was in the most deeply devotional frame, most overwhelmed 
with the sense that he was nothing, and ' God was all in all,' 
he always felt inclined to adopt a trinitarian cloxology. This 
circumstance occurring frequently, and more frequently 
meditated upon in a tone of honest and anxious inquiry, 
issued at length in the persuasion that the Holy Spirit is 
really and truly God, and not an emanation. It was not, 
however, until 1800 that he publicly included the personality 
of the Holy Spirit in his statements of the doctrine of spir- 
itual influence. In attempting to give some idea of the 
general character and style of Mr. Hall's public services, 
while I had the privilege of hearing him at Cambridge, I 
feel that I shall neither adequately describe what his preach- 
ing really was, nor even do justice to my own conceptions of 
it. His manner of reading the Scriptures at the begin- 



280 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ning of the service was not generally interesting ; nor did 
the portion read always bear an obvious reference to the text 
or subject afterward brought forward. But when passages 
of Scripture were quoted in the sermon, they were so deliv- 
ered as to give to their true meaning the most intelligible 
prominence and force. His prayers were remarkable for 
their simplicity and their devotional feeling. No person 
could listen to them without being persuaded that he who 
uttered them was really engaged in prayer, was holding 
communion with his God and Father in Christ Jesus. His 
tones and his countenance throughout these exercises, were 
those of one most deeply imbued with a sense of his 
unworthiness, and throwing himself at the feet of the Great 
Eternal, conscious that he could present no claim for a single 
blessing, but the blood of atonement, yet animated by the 
cheering hope that the voice of that blood would prevail. 
The structure of these prayers never indicated any precon- 
ceived plan. They were the general effusions of a truly 
devotional spirit, animated by a vivid recollection of what in 
his own state, in that of the congregation, of the town and 
vicinity, needed most ardently to be laid before the Father 
of Mercies. Thus they were remarkably comprehensive, 
and furnished a far greater variety on the successive occa- 
sions of public worship, than those of any other minister I 
have ever known. The portions which were devoted to inter- 
cession operated most happily in drawing the affections of 
his people towards himself; since they showed how com- 
pletely his Christian sympathy had prepared him to make their 
respective cases his own. The commencement of his ser- 
mons did not excite much expectation in strangers, except 
they were such as recollected how the mental agitation, pro- 
duced by diffidence, characterized the first sentences of some 
of the orators of antiquity. He began with hesitation, and 
often in a very low and feeble tone, coughing frequently, as 
though he were oppressed by asthmatic obstructions. As he 
proceeded, his manner became easy, graceful, and at length 
highly impassioned ; his voice also acquired more flexibility, 
body, and sweetness, and in all his happier and more suc- 
cessful efforts swelled into a stream of the most touching and 



ROBERT HALL. 281 

impressive melody. The farther he advanced, the more spon- 
taneous, natural, and free from labor seemed the progression 
of thought. He announced the results of the most exten- 
sive reading, of the most patient investigation, or of the pro- 
foundest thinking, with such unassuming simplicity, yet set 
them in such a position of obvious and lucid reality, that the 
auditors wondered how things so simple and manifest should 
have escaped them. Throughout his sermon he kept his 
subject thoroughly in view, and so incessantly brought 
forward new arguments, or new illustrations, to confirm or ex- 
plain it, that with amplification it was almost invariably accu- 
mulative in its tendency. One thought was succeeded by 
another, and that by another, and another, each more weighty 
than the preceding, each more calculated to deepen and ren- 
der permanent the ultimate impression. He could at pleasure 
adopt the unadorned, ornamental, or the energetic ; and 
indeed combine them with every diversity of modulation. In 
his higher flights, what he said of Burke, might, with the 
slightest deduction, be applied to himself, that 'his imperial 
fancy laid all nature under tribute, and collected riches from 
every scene in the creation, and every walk of art ; ' and at 
the same time, that could be affirmed of Mr. Hall, ' which 
could not be affirmed of Mr. Burke, that he never fatigued 
or oppressed by superfluous imagery ! Whenever the sub- 
ject obviously justified it, he would yield the reins to an 
eloquence more diffusive and magnificent than the ordinary 
course of pulpit eloquence seemed to require ; yet so exqui- 
site was his perception of beauty, and so sound his judgment, 
that not the coldest taste, provided it were real taste, could 
ever wish an image omitted which Mr. Hall had introduced. 
His inexhaustible variety augmented the general effect. The 
same images, the same illustrations, scarcely ever recurred. 
So ample were his stores, that repetition of every kind was 
usually avoided; while in his illustrations he would connect 
and contrast what was disjointed and opposed, or distinctly 
unfold what was abstracted or obscure, in such terms as were 
generally intelligible, not only to the well-informed but to 
the meanest capacity. As he advanced to his practical 
applications all his mental powers were shown in the most 

24* 



282 



THE EMINENT DEAD. 



palpable but finely balanced exercise. His mind would, if I 
may so speak, collect itself and come forth with a luminous 
activity, proving, as he advanced, how vast, and, in some 
important senses, how next to irresistible those powers were. 
In such seasons his preaching communicated universal ani- 
mation ; his congregation would seem to partake of his spirit, 
to think and feel as he did, to be fully influenced by the 
presence of the objects which he had placed before them, 
fully actuated by the motives which he had enforced with 
such energy and pathos." 

In 1789, the prevalence of the licentious and infidel 
French opinions, both in politics and religion, originated in 
the inflamed and unsanctified hearts of the actors in the 
bloody civil revolution that had just convulsed France and 
shaken the world, had excited general anxiety among the 
more serious and thoughtful minds in England. • 

" From 1795 to 1799, debating rooms were opened in 
various parts of the metropolis, in which the most bare-faced 
infidelity was taught, and to which the lower classes were 
invited, often on Sunday evenings, often by a variety of spe- 
cious allurements. Mr. Hall was no sooner aware of the 
existence of these sources of evil, and of the mischief they 
produced, than he began to use the voice of warning, in his 
private intercourse among his people, and to impress upon 
such of the young as he feared had received a sceptical bias, 
that of all fanaticism, the fanaticism of infidelity then prev- 
alent, w T as at once the most preposterous and the most 
destructive. 

" Mr. Hall's persuasion of the continuance and growth of 
this infidel spirit induced him to preach and publish his cele- 
brated sermon on ' modern infidelity,' which was not, there~ 
fore, as many affirmed, a hasty production, written under 
excited feelings and false alarms, but the deliberate result 
of a confirmed belief, that the most strenuous efforts were 
required to repel mischief so awfully and insidiously diffused. 

" Before the publication of this sermon, its author had fully 
' counted the cost ' as to the obloquy which it would bring 



ROBERT HALL. 283 

upon him from various quarters ; but he did not at all antici- 
pate its extraordinary success, and the corresponding exten- 
sion of his reputation. As repeated editions were called for, 
he yielded his assent with great hesitation, from a fear that 
the copies would remain unsold ; and he was the last to see, 
what every one else perceived, that it had carried his celeb- 
rity as a profound thinker and eloquent writer, far beyond 
the limits of the denomination to which he was so bright an 
ornament. From that time, Mr. Hall's reputation was placed 
upon an eminence which it will probably retain, so long as 
purity and elevation of style, deeply philosophical views of 
the springs and motives of action, and correct theological 
sentiments, are duly appreciated in the world. 

" In little more than two years after the publication of the 
sermon on Modern Infidelity, Mr. Hall again appeared before 
the public as an author. The transient peace of Amiens 
was celebrated by a general thanksgiving throughout Eng- 
land, on the first of June, 1802. In the sermon preached 
by Mr. Hall on that occasion, he endeavored first to awaken 
the gratitude of his auditors by a most touching picture of 
the horrors of war, from which Europe had just escaped ; 
and then to apply the gratitude so excited to acts of benev- 
olence. 

" The nation had scarcely tasted the blessings of peace, 
when a dispute on one of the articles of the treaty of Amiens 
involved them in a fresh war with France. Bonaparte, aware 
of the British ascendency at sea, resolved, first, to attack the 
continental dominions. He also seized the persons and prop- 
erty of numerous English who had visited France during the 
brief interval of peace, detaining them as prisoners of war; 
and then menaced the country with invasion. So strange, 
and in some respects so atrocious a commencement of hostili- 
ties, had a singular effect in melting down dissension, and 
diffusing a spirit of almost unexampled unanimity among all 
classes and ranks of community. At this momentous period 
Mr. Hall's love of country was again signally evinced. On 
fast day, 19th October, he preached at Bristol a sermon, 
afterward published , — ' The sentiments proper to the present 
Crisis,' which had the happiest effect in enkindling the flame 



284 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

of active, generous patriotism. This sermon, perhaps, ex- 
cited more general admiration than any of the author's 
former productions, on account of its masterly exposure of 
prevailing errors, its original and philosophical defence of 
some momentous truths, and its remarkable appropriateness 
to the exigencies of the crisis. The last ten pages were 
thought by many (and by Mr. Pitt among the number,) to 
be fully equal in genuine eloquence to any passage of the 
same length that can be selected from either ancient or mod- 
ern orators." 

In 1804, the pain in Mr. Hall's back increased to so great 
a degree that it deprived him of refreshing sleep, and de- 
pressed his spirits to an alarming extent, which eventually 
took the form of temporary insanity. Under careful med- 
ical attendance, however, he soon so far recovered his health 
as to be able, after one relapse, to resume his ministerial 
functions ; but it was deemed advisable by his friends for 
him to resign his pastoral office at Cambridge, for a more 
retired and quiet residence. 

" Two visitations of so humiliating a calamity, within the 
compass of a year, deeply affected Mr. Hall's mind. Hap- 
pily, however, for himself and for the world, his spirits recov- 
ered their wonted tone ; and the permanent impression on 
his character was exclusively religious. His own decided 
persuasion was, that however vivid his convictions of religious 
truth, and of the necessity of a consistent course of evan- 
gelical obedience, had formerly been, and however correct his 
doctrinal sentiments during the last four or five years, yet 
that he did not undergo a thorough transformation of char- 
acter, a complete renewal of his heart and affections, until 
the first of these seizures. Be this as it may, (and the 
wonderful revelations of the c great day ' can alone remove 
the doubt,) there can be no question that from this period 
he seemed more to live under the prevailing recollection of 
his entire dependence upon God, that his habits were more 



ROBERT HALL. 285 

devotional than they had ever before been, his exercises more 
fervent and more elevated. 

" At this time, I believe, Mr. Hall, under the persuasion 
to which I have just alluded, made a solemn dedication of 
himself to God, renewing the act annually on the recurrence 
of his birth-day. One of these touching and impressive 
records, which has been found among his papers, will, I feel 
assured, be read with deep interest : 

" ' An Act of Solemn Dedication of myself to God. Oh ! 
Lord, thou that searchest the heart, and triest the reins of 
the children of men, be thou witness of what I am now 
about, in the strength of thy grace, to attempt ; that grace I 
humbly and earnestly implore, to give validity and effect to 
that act of solemn engagement of myself to thy service, on 
which I am about to enter. " Thou knowest my foolishness, 
and my sins are none of them hid from thee." " I was 
born in sin, and in iniquity did my mother conceive me ! I 
am an apostate, guilty branch of an apostate, guilty root, 
and my life has been a series of rebellion and transgressions, 
in which I have walked according to the course of this world, 
according to the Prince of the power of the air, the spirit 
that now worketh in the children of disobedience.'' How 
shall I confess my transgressions before thee, what numbers 
can reach, what words can adequately express them ! " My 
iniquities have increased over my head, and my transgres- 
sions have grown up unto Heaven." Oh Lord, I esteem it 
a wonderful mercy that I have not long since been cut 
off in the midst of my sins, and been sent to Hell before I 
had an opportunity or heart to repent. Being assured from 
the word of God of thy gracious and merciful nature, and 
of thy willingness to pardon and accept penitent believing 
sinners on the ground of the blood and righteousness of thine 
own adorable Son, " who died, the just for the unjust, to 
bring them to God," and that " him that cometh to him he will 
in nowise cast out," I do most humbly prostrate myself at the 
foot stool of his cross, and through him enter into thy cov 
enant. I disclaim all right to myself from henceforth, to my 
soul, my body, my time, my health, my reputation, my talents, 
or any thing that belongs to me. I confess myself to be the 



286 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

property of the glorious Redeemer, as one whom I humbly 
hope he has redeemed by his blood to be part of the "first 
fruits of his creatures." I do most cheerfully and cordially 
receive him in all his offices, as my Priest, my Prophet, and 
my King. I dedicate myself to him, to serve, love, and 
trust in him as my life and my salvation to my life's end. 

" ' I renounce the devil and all his works, the flesh, and 
the world, with heartfelt regret that I should have been 
enslaved by them so long. I do solemnly and deliberately 
take thee to be my full and satisfying good, and eternal por- 
tion in and through thine adorable son the Redeemer, and by 
the assistance of the blessed Spirit of all grace, the third 
person in the triune God, whom I take to be my Sanctifier 
and Comforter to the end of time, and through a happy 
eternity, praying that the Holy Spirit may deign to take 
perpetual possession of my heart and fix his abode there. 

" ' I do most solemnly devote and give up myself to the 
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, agreeably to the terms 
of the Gospel covenant, and in humble expectation of the 
blessings it ascertains to sincere believers. I call thee to 
witness, God ! the truth and reality of this surrender of 
all I have, and all I am, to thee ; and conscious of the un- 
speakable deceitfulness of my heart, I humbly and earnestly 
implore the influence of thy Spirit to enable me to stand 
steadfast in this covenant, as well as an interest in the blood 
of the Son, that I may be forgiven in those instances (alas ! 
that such an idea should be possible,) in which I may in any 
degree swerve from it. 

" ' Done this (2d) day of May, 1809, seven o'clock in 
the evening, Leicester. Robert Hall.' " 



> )? 



He now retired to the vicinity of Leicester, the scenes of 
nis youthful hours, and the residence of his relatives. After 
an invigorating rest of a few months, he began to preach 
again in Leicester, to a small congregation, and a short time 
after accepted their call to become their regular pastor. 

" With this church he continued connected nearly twenty 
years. The church and congregation steadily increased 



ROBERT HALL. 287 

during that long interval, and scarcely any thing of moment 
occurred to interrupt their internal peace. The place of 
worship which, when Mr. Hall first settled there, would not 
conveniently hold four hundred persons, was enlarged in 
1809 for the reception of about eight hundred; and in 1817 
a second enlargement rendered it capable of accommodating 
a thousand persons. In 1826, at the close of Mr. Hall's 
labors there, the place was comfortably filled, and the mem- 
bers of the church, besides those who it is believed have 
gone to their eternal reward, amounted to nearly three hun- 
dred. More than a hundred of those who constituted the 
evening congregation were pious members of the church of 
England." 

In 1808, he was united in marriage with a most excel- 
lent lady, with whom, until the hour of his death, he 
lived in affectionate and happy fellowship. During his resi- 
dence in Leicester, he sent forth through the press several 
of his most admirable writings, among them, perhaps de- 
servedly the most popular, was his discourse upon the sudden 
death of the lamented Princess Charlotte. 

It would be grateful and profitable to linger still longer in 
our sketch upon the events that marked the life of this most 
eloquent and interesting man, but we have already swelled 
the details of his life much beyond the limits prescribed for 
our biographical sketches in this volume. We must hasten 
to record the affecting scenes that at once attested the sin- 
cerity and power of his piety, and confirmed even more 
eloquently than his masterly defence of Christianity against 
infidelity, the value, beauty, and divine energy of the religion 
of the Bible. 

For some time before his last sickness, his friends noticed 
his rapid growth in grace, and evident maturing in holiness. 
His seasons of extraordinary self-examination, fasting and 
prayer, were most faithfully attended, and his often written 



288 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

re-dedications clearly exhibit the intensity of his " hunger- 
ings and thirstings after righteousness." 

" The indications of infirm age now rapidly exhibited 
themselves, but happily were unaccompanied by a decaying 
mind, or a querulous spirit. The language of his conduct 
and of his heart, corresponded with that of the pious ancient, 
6 Lord, give me patience now, and ease hereafter ! If tem- 
pests come, they will not last long, but soon will be hushed 
in an eternal calm.' 

"His inability to take exercise, on account of the gradual 
increase of his complaint, gave rise, about six years before 
his death, to another disorder, formidable in its nature, and 
fatal in its issue. The indications of a plethoric habit be- 
came more and more apparent. The malady thus produced 
becoming more and more severe, Mr. Hall, when in London 
in 1828, was persuaded by his friends to take the advice of 
an eminent physician ; from which, however, no permanent 
good resulted. By the summer of 1830, the disorder had 
increased so seriously that his medical friends at Bristol 
recommended a suspension of his pastoral duties for a few 
weeks, that he might try the effect of a total change of air 
and scene. 

" He therefore spent some time at Coleford, in the forest 
of Dean, m the society of his old and valued friend, the 
Kev. Isaiah Birt. He also spent a few weeks at Chelten- 
ham. At both these places he preached with his accustomed 
talent ; and his general appearance, too clearly indicating 
that the close of his ministerial labors was at hand, gave a 
deeper impression to his instructions and exhortations. 

" The last service at Broadmead in which Mr. Hall took any 
part, was the church meeting, (when only the members of 
the church assembled,) on Wednesday, the 9th of February. 

" His closing prayer, on that occasion, is spoken of as most 
spiritual and elevated, exhibiting, in its highest manifesta- 
tion, the peculiar union of humility, benevolence, and fervor, 
by which his devotional exercises had been very long char- 
acterized. 

" On the next evening, Thursday, the usual monthly ser- 



ROBERT HALL. 289 

mon, preparatory to the administration of the Lord's Sup- 
per, was to have been delivered ; but Mr. Hall's discharge 
of this duty was prevented by a severe attack of the 
complaint in his chest, which came on just after he had 
retired to his study to prepare for that service. This was 
the commencement of the series of paroxysms which termi- 
nated in his dissolution. 

" From this time the paroxysms increased rapidly, both in 
frequency and severity ; and Mr. Hall, in the intervals be- 
tween their recurrence, was usually so weak and exhausted 
as seldom to be able to converse with those around him. 
His expressions, however insulated and broken as they often 
were, proved that he was able fully to exercise that trust in 
God which is the grand principle of religion, and that thus 
trusting in him, his soul was kept in peace. No murmuring, 
no language of irritability, escaped from his lips. 

" When he first announced his apprehension that he never 
should again minister among his people, he immediately 
added — ' But I am in God's hands, and I rejoice that I am. 
I am God's creature, at his disposal, for life or death; and 
that is a great mercy.' 

" Again — ; I have not one anxious thought, either for life 
or death. What I dread most are dark days. But I have 
had none ; and I hope I shall not have any.' 

"Again — ' I fear pain more than death. If I could die 
easily, I think I would rather go than stay ; for I have seen 
enough of the world, and I have a humble hope.' 

" On another occasion, a friend having said to him, f This 
God will be our God ; ' * Yes, he will — he will be our guide 
even unto death.' 

" On recovering from one of his severe paroxysms, he 
adverted to the affectionate attention of his beloved wife and 
daughters, as well as his numerous comforts, and exclaimed, 
* What a mercy it is to have so many alleviations ! I might 
have been deprived of all these comforts — I might have 
been in poverty — I might have been the most abject wretch 
on the face of the earth.' 

" Mrs. Hall, in the course of the morning on which 
he died, remarking to him that he appeared better, and 

25 



290 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

expressing her hope that he would recover, he replied, l Ah, 
my dear, let us hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.' 
He then stated his opinion that this day would be critical. 
When his medical attendants met in consultation, a little 
after noon, he seemed rather better ; and Mr. Chandler left 
him between one and two, reclining on the sofa, leaning on 
his elbow with as much muscular energy as ever. 

" ' In a very short time/ says this gentleman, l and before 
I had reached home, I was summoned to behold the last 
agonizing scene of this great and extraordinary man. His 
difficulty of breathing had increased to a dreadful and final 
paroxysm. It seems this last paroxysm came on more grad- 
ually than was usual with those which preceded. Mr. Hall 
finding his breathing becoming much worse, first rose more 
on his elbow, then raised his body, supporting himself with 
his hand, till the increasing agitation obliged him to rise 
completely on the sofa, and to place his feet in hot water — 
the usual means he resorted to for relief in every parox- 
ysm. Mrs. Hall observing a fixation of his eyes, and an 
unusual expression on his countenance, and indeed in his 
whole manner, became alarmed by the sudden impression 
that he was dying ; and exclaimed in great agitation, " This 
can't be dying I " when he replied, " It is death — it is 
death — death ! Oh the sufferings of this body ! " Mrs. 
Hall then asked, " But are you comfortable in your mind ? " 
He immediately answered, "Very comfortable — very com- 
fortable : " and immediately exclaimed, " Come Lord Jesus, 

Come " He then hesitated, as if incapable of bringing 

out the last word ; and one of his daughters, involuntarily 
as it were, anticipated him by saying, " Quickly ! " on which 
her departing father gave her a look of most complacent 
delight. 

" ' On entering his room I found him sitting on the sofa, 
surrounded by his lamenting family ; with one foot in the 
hot water, and the other spasmodically grasping the edge of 
the bath; his frame waving in violent, almost convulsive 
heavings, sufficiently indicative of the process of dissolution. 
I hastened, though despairingly, to administer such stimu- 
lants as might possibly avert the threatening termination of 



ROBERT HALL. 291 

life ; and as I sat by his side for this purpose, he threw his 
arm over my shoulders for support, with evident satisfaction 
that I was near him. He said to me, " I am dying; death 
has come at last : all now will be useless." As I pressed 
upon him draughts of stimulants, he intimated that he would 
take them if I wished ; but he believed all was useless. On 
my asking him if he suffered much, he replied, " dreadfully." 
The rapidly increasing gasping soon overpowered his ability 
to swallow, or to speak except in monosyllables, few in 
number, which I could not collect ; but whatever might be 
the degree of suffering, (and great it must have been,) 
there was no failure of mental vigor or composure. Indeed, 
so perfect was his consciousness, that in the midst of these 
last agonies, he intimated to me very shortly before the close, 
with his accustomed courteousness, a fear lest he should 
fatigue me by his pressure ; and when his family, one after 
another, gave way in despair, he followed them with sympa- 
thizing looks, as they were obliged to be conveyed from the 
room. This was his last voluntary movement ; for immedi- 
ately a general convulsion seized him, and he quickly 
expired.' 

" Oh ! how inconceivably blessed is the change, when, at 
the moment of utmost agony, the soul enters the regions of 
endless joy ; passes from the land of the dying to the land 
of the living ; from the society of saints to the blissful 
presence of the King of saints, where knowledge, illumina- 
tion, purity, and love, flow for ever and ever from the Inex- 
haustible Fountain ! Such is the ineffable reward which 
awaits all the followers of the Lamb. i Father, I will that 
they also whom thou hast given me be, with me where I am, 
that they may behold my glory.' " 



292 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



LEGH RICHMOND. 

Legh Richmond was born at Liverpool, on January 29, 
1772. His father was a highly respected and successful 
physician ; his mother was a most estimable woman, endowed 
with a superior understanding, which had been cultivated 
and improved by an excellent education and subsequent 
study. In addition to her natural talents and acquirements, 
she uniformly manifested a deep sense of the importance of 
religion, and anxiously instructed him, from his infancy, in 
the Holy Scriptures and in the principles of religion, as far 
as her own knowledge and experience enabled her. 

Owing to an accident received in his early youth, induc- 
ing lameness, he was not sent to school, but received his 
rudimental education under the direction of his father, who 
was an excellent classical scholar. His mind rapidly devel- 
oped and gave encouraging promise of the future. He 
exhibited an early and precocious taste for original composi- 
tion, the exuberance of his fancy leading him especially to 
prefer poetic measures. 

Having completed his preparatory studies, he entered 
Trinity College, Cambridge, August, 1789. 

He applied himself diligently to his studies, and was 
esteemed by all as a young man of great abilities, winning 
strong friendship by his amiable conduct, correct habits, and 
peculiar conversational powers. Music was his favorite 
recreation and great delight, and while he was in College he 
collected materials and contemplated publishing a work upon 
the theory and history of music. It was his father's wish, 
upon his graduation, that he should turn his attention to the 
law as a profession, but his inclinations led him strongly to 
the church. His reasons for this choice, as given to his 



LEGH RICHMOND. 293 

father at this time, exhibit his sad lack of a proper appre- 
ciation of the solemn nature of the sacred office and the 
necessary spiritual preparation for it. 

" I have consulted my own inclinations, abilities, deficien- 
cies, merits and demerits, and examined them in as many 
points of view as I have been able, in order to determine 
which of those professions was the best calculated to promote 
my own happiness, and the welfare of others. My present 
determination is in favor of the former, principally from the 
following considerations. The sacred profession is in itself 
without doubt the most respectable and the most useful in 
which any man of principle and education can possibly be 
engaged. The benefits which it is the province of the cler- 
gyman to bestow on his fellow-creatures, are more widely 
disseminated, and are in themselves more intrinsically val- 
uable, than those of every other profession or employment 
united together. To a conscientious mind, therefore, that 
line of life appears to be the most eligible, in which he may 
be enabled to do the most solid good to mankind. 

" One further argument with myself for preferring the 
church to the law is, that I have found, from four years' 
experience, a strong inclination to study several branches of 
literature, which are far more connected with the church 
than with the law, as neither their nature nor the time 
requisite to be bestowed upon them would allow the lawyer 
to exercise himself in them. What these are shall be the 
subject of future information to you. At present, my desire 
of becoming a very good general scholar is so much stronger 
than that of becoming an extremely good particular one, 
that I am convinced I could not throw aside the hopes of 
pursuing my favorite views in that way, and dedicating 
myself solely to one, and that perhaps not the most inviting, 
without the utmost regret. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Legh Richmond. " 

God, however, had a divine intention in overruling this 
choice, and in disposing the heart of his father to accede to 
25* 



294 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

his wishes. He had better things in store than earthly 
honor or emolument, and was about to fill his heart with 
higher, wider, and better founded impulses for the work of 
human benefit and salvation. 

He remained at Cambridge, pursuing the studies of his 
chosen profession, until the summer of 1797, when he en- 
tered upon the sacred office of the ministiy. 

He was ordained deacon in June of this year, was mar- 
ried on the 22nd of the same month, and immediately 
proceeded to the Isle of Wight, and entered upon the cura- 
cies of the adjoining parishes of Brading and Yaverland. 
He was ordained priest in February, 1798. 

The remarkable change that scon took place in his 
religious views and experience, is thus described by his 
biographer. 

" Shortly after he had entered on his curacies, one of his 
college friends was on the eve of taking holy orders, to 
whom a near relative had sent Mr. Wilberforee ? s ' Practical 
View of Christianity.' This thoughtless candidate for the 
momentous charge of the Christian ministry, forwarded the 
book to Mr. Richmond, requesting him to give it a perusal, 
and to inform him what he must say respecting its contents. 
In compliance with this request, he began to read the book, 
and found himself so deeply interested in its contents, that 
the volume was not laid down until the perusal of it was 
completed. The night was spent in reading and reflecting 
upon the important truths contained in this valuable and 
impressive work. In the course of his employment, the soul 
of the reader was penetrated to its inmost recesses ; and the 
effect produced in innumerable instances by the book of 
God, was, in this case, accomplished by means of a human 
composition. From that period his mind received a pow- 
erful impulse, and was no longer able to rest under its 
former impressions. A change was effected in his views of 
divine truth, as decided as it was influential. He was no 
longer satisfied with the creed of the speculatist — he- felt a 



LEGH RICHMOND. 295 

conviction of his own state, as a guilty and condemned sin- 
ner, and under that conviction, he sought mercy at the 
cross of the Saviour. There arose in his mind a solemn 
consciousness that, however outwardly moral and apparently 
irreproachable his conduct might appear to men, jet, within, 
there was wanting that entire surrender of the heart, that 
ascendency of God in the soul, and that devotedness of life 
and conduct, which distinguishes morality from holiness — 
an assent to divine truth, from its cordial reception into the 
heart — and the external profession of religion, from its 
inward and transforming power. The impressions awakened 
were, therefore, followed by a transfer of his time, his talents, 
and his affections, to the service of his God and Saviour, and 
to the spiritual welfare of the flock committed to his care. 
But while his mind was undergoing this inward process, it is 
necessary to state how laborious he was in his search after 
truth. The Bible became the frequent and earnest subject 
of his examination, prayer, and meditation. His object was 
fontes haurire sacros — to explore truth at its fountain head, 
or, in the emphatic language of Scripture, to ' draw water 
out of the wells of salvation.' From the study of the Bible, 
he proceeded to a minute examination of the writings of the 
Reformers, which, by a singular coincidence, came into his 
possession shortly after this period ; and having from these 
various sources acquired increasing certainty as to the cor- 
rectness of his recent convictions, and stability in holding 
them, he found, what the sincere and conscientious inquirer 
will always find, the Truth ; and his heart being interested, 
he learnt truth through the heart, and believed it, because 
he felt it." 

Mr. Richmond now began, with renewed diligence and 
interest, the duties of his sacred office. "Every qualification 
became consecrated to religion. His imagination, taste, 
affections, and endowments, received an impulse which 
directed all their energies to the glory of God, and to useful 
and profitable purposes." 

It was while residing in the Isle of Wight that the inter- 



296 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

esting occurrences happened which were embodied with 
such ravishing simplicity and interest by his pen, and which 
have diffused his name and usefulness abroad in all parts of 
the world. Mr. Richmond preached often among the sol- 
diers who were at this time quartered upon the island, and 
the history of one of these exhibits his kindness and useful- 
ness among those who were generally neglected as hopeless. 

" A young soldier introduced himself to Mr. Richmond, 
in company with one of his comrades, begging to know if 
he would kindly purchase from him a few clergyman's bands, 
and some manuscript sermons. Being asked by what means 
they came into his possession, he stated, with much embar- 
rassment, that his history was wholly unknown to his com- 
panions in arms, but that being thus urged, he would recount 
the painful circumstances of his past life. He proceeded to 
declare that he was a son of a clergyman in Wales, — that 
he had been regularly ordained, and officiated during three 

years on a curacy in the county of W ; that disorderly 

habits, and debts incurred without the possibility of dis- 
charging them, had brought him at length to ruin and dis- 
grace ; and that, to avoid imprisonment, he had been induced 
to enlist as a common soldier ; that he had served in the 
last campaign in Holland, and was then about to proceed 
with the army, on the expedition to Alexandria, under Sir 
James Abercrombie. He added, that it was to furnish him- 
self with a few necessaries, that he was led to offer the arti- 
cles in question for sale. Mr. Richmond, having ascertained, 
as far as possible, the correctness of his story, purchased 
them ; and afterwards held a very long conversation with 
him, on the awful consequences of his past life, and his 
unfaithfulness to the solemn and sacred engagement he had 
formerly contracted. The soldier seemed to be more abashed 
by the disclosure of his history, than impressed with the 
consciousness of his guilt, and the admonitions that he 
received. In June, 1802, the comrade who had originally 
accompanied him, once more called on Mr. Richmond, and 
stated that he was just returned from Egypt,- and that 






LEGH RICHMOND. 297 

the young man, in whose welfare he had taken so lively an 
interest, had fallen in battle, and died a true penitent ; that 
on the evening preceding the engagement of the 21st March, 
he had been seized with a presentiment that he should not 
survive the event of the following day ; and had commis- 
sioned him, (the bearer,) should he be spared to return, to 
inform Mr. Richmond, that the counsel he had so faithfully 
given to him, though it had failed at the time to impress him 
as it ought to have done, had ultimately sunk deep into his 
conscience, and produced all the effects that he could have 
wished ; ' tell our dear pastor,' continued he, * that I owe 
him more than worlds can repay ; he first opened my heart 
to conviction, and God has blessed it to repentance. Through 
the unspeakable mercies of Christ, I can die with comfort.' 
The event that he had prognosticated was fulfilled ; and it 
was discovered that poor Mr. E lost his life by a can- 
non ball, at an early period in the action." 

It was here that he became acquainted with the " Dairy- 
man's Daughter." She resided at Arreton, a village six 
miles distant from Brading, where he was in the habit of 
occasionally visiting her, by particular request, during her 
last illness. Her name was Wallbridge ; and who that has 
read her history, can repress the emotions that such unaf- 
fected piety and sanctified affliction are calculated to 
awaken ? 

His "Negro Servant " lived in the family of an officer in 
the neighborhood. His "Young Cottager" was one of his 
Sunday-school children at Brading, and the first fruits of his 
ministry in that parish. 

In 1814 he wrote the " Annals of the Poor." 

" His ' Dairyman's Daughter ' rapidly acquired an unex- 
ampled celebrity. It was read with an avidity that required 
many successive editions to satisfy the demands of the public, 
and soon became the most popular tract of the day. The 
author, from the generous motive of insuring to it a more 



298 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

extended usefulness, was induced to present it to the Reli- 
gious Tract Society, by whom it was immediately translated 
into the French and Italian languages. The writer of this 
Memoir well remembers a circumstance connected with this 
celebrated tract, which he will here mention. He was taken 
by Mr. Richmond, in the year 1811, to attend a committee 
meeting of the Tract Society, when one of the members 
rose up and observed, that as he came with the full inten- 
tion of submitting to them the motion in his hand, he 
hoped he should not violate the delicacy of its author, by 
proposing, that the tract of the 6 Dairyman's Daughter,' 
the merit of which had been so generally recognized, should 
be translated into the German, Swedish, and Danish lan- 
guages. Another member then rose and said, that he 
trusted he should be excused for adding an amendment to 
the motion, by recommending that the above tract be trans- 
lated into all the European languages, as far as means and 
opportunities might occur for that purpose. The resolution 
was unanimously carried in this amended form. The tract 
has since been translated into most of the Continental lan- 
guages. It has also obtained a wide circulation in America; 
the Old and New World have alike stamped it with the seal 
of popular approbation. At home, several editions of 20,000 
copies each, were printed within a very short period, and the 
copies which have been circulated in the English language 
alone, to the present time, are estimated at two millions. It 
has found its way to the palaces of kings, and been seen 
in the hut of the Indian. Its author was informed of 
thirty instances, in which it was acknowledged to have been 
instrumental to the conversion of its readers, of whom one 
was a female convict at Botany Bay. The last instance of 
its usefulness was communicated to him within only twenty- 
four hours of his decease ; and from its peculiarity deserves 
to be mentioned. 

" A clergyman who had conceived a violent antipathy 
against the Religious Tract Society and all its publications, 
was induced to select the ' Dairyman's Daughter,' for the 
purpose of criticising and exposing its defects. In the 
perusal of it, however, he was so arrested by the interest 



LEGH RICHMOND. 299 

of the story, and so penetrated by the power of the religious 
truths which it contained, that the pen of criticism dropped 
from his hand, prejudice was charmed into admiration, and 
he was added as another trophy of that grace which had 
shone so brightly in the life and death of the Dairyman's 
Daughter." 

For the more careful cultivation of his heart, on the first 
of January, 1804, he commenced a daily diary of his inward 
and outward experience, and as it was intended for no other 
eye than his own, the evidence it throws upon his sincere 
and growing piety is of the highest order. We select a few 
extracts to show the reality and power of the divine work 
that had lately been wrought in his soul. 

" January 1. A new year is begun, but where is the new 
heart, and the right spirit ? 0, weakness and wickedness ! 
Preached from Rom. xi. 28, 29 ; and Job. xvi. 22. Felt 

much satisfaction, after the morning service, from J and 

his wife proposing to become members of my society. He 
shed tears of penitence and joy. May God work all for good. 
In the afternoon, felt something of the fear of man, but 
found, as I proceeded, more freedom. Lord, save me 
from fear of censure, and love of praise ! Went in the 
evening to my society at Arreton ; few, but meek, humble, 
and hopeful. Another member proposed — an infirm old 
widow. 

" January 3. Uneasy at not having completed another 
part of the review of Daubeny. I am very deficient in 
steady, persevering diligence. Let me think much of this, 
and learn to set a right value on time. Oh ! how precious 
ought every hour to be, when each may be the last. Thought 
much of Cowper's description of preaching : (Task, Book 
ii.) God impress it on my heart. B. is buried to-day ; 
how dreadfully unprepared to meet his God ! How far am 
I responsible ? Alas ! how great is the burden of the pas- 
tor. Lord, give me grace to see it, and feel it more and 
more, and enable me to bear it with a good conscience. I 



300 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

have been delighted, and I hope profited, by Biddulph's 
funeral sermon on Mr. Drewitt ; oh ! that I were like him ! 
I now wonder that I had not more correspondence with that 
holy man ; I shall ever think with pleasure of my introduc- 
tion to him. God bring us together at the last. I trust my 
resolutions gain strength. God, in thy mercy strengthen 
me ! May my thoughts now close with blessed Drewitt, 
and sink to peacefulness, with a blessing on the meditation. 

" January 6. A beautiful frosty morning. Teach me, 
Lord ! from the beauties of nature, to learn the beauties of 
grace. Every returning morning reminds me what a mercy 
it is I am still alive, and have space and time given me to 
repent and believe. Take my heart, Gocl ! into thy keep- 
ing, and then it will be safe. If it be thy good pleasure to 
rescue me from temporal perplexity, let my gra,titude 
appear ; if not, let it be ground for submission and patient 
resignation. With thee, I cannot do ill ; without thee, I 
cannot do well. Heard Nugent's morning prayers. May 
he learn early the lesson, which I for so many years neg- 
lected, and now perform so unworthily. Prayer is the 
breath of faith. 

" January 8, Sunday. Snow and sleet. How cold are 
my affections ! like this season. Warm my heart, Lord ! 
till it burn with the flames of devotion. Compose my 
thoughts into holy meditation, and let not the events of the 
day destroy them. 

" Preached on the Epiphany, and on Christ among the 
doctors in the temple. 

" January 10. What an awful idea is eternity : am I 
prepared to encounter it ? ' Oh, spare me a little, that I 
may recover my strength before I go hence, and be no more 
seen ! ' Settle my opinions steadfastly, and, above all, my 
affections on thyself, Lord ! Have mercy on the dear 
children whom thou hast given me, and may I give them 
back unto thee, in Jesus Christ, their and my Saviour. I 
fear I have not taught N. all I ought, and of which he is 
capable. Let me lay this to heart, and recommend him to 
God in prayer." 



LEGH RICHMOND. 301 

In 1805, after mature deliberation and prayer, Mr. Rich- 
mond was induced to remove from his beloved flocks upon 
the Isle of Wight, and to enter upon the charge of the 
church at Turvey near Olney. The same zeal and devotion 
characterized his life here, as in his previous parishes. 

While residing at Turvey, at the urgent entreaty of many 
of his clerical friends, he was induced to edit an edition of 
the Works of the English Reformers, a task that he exe- 
cuted with great honor to himself, and conferring a lasting 
benefit upon the church. 

Mr. Richmond was an eloquent and successful preacher in 
the pulpit. 

" He never failed to attract a crowded congregation, and 
seldom preached without the most decided proofs of a divine 
power accompanying his ministrations. He also possessed 
many natural endowments, which in no small degree contrib- 
uted to his success. He was an eloquent speaker ; but his 
eloquence was not labored and artificial — it was the simple 
and glowing expression of a mind deeply impressed with the 
importance, of his subject, full of affection, and intent on 
imparting the same feelings to those who heard him. 

" He used to refer his friends, who conversed with him 
on the subject of preaching, to the advice of his college 
tutor : ' Don't use terms of science. The people have no 
abstract ideas — they cannot understand comparisons and 
allusions remote from all their habits. Take words of Saxon 
derivation, and not such as are derived from Latin and 
Greek. Talk of riches, not affluence — of trust, not confi- 
dence. Present the same idea in a varied form, and take 
care that you understand the subject yourself. If you be 
intelligent, you will be intelligible.' 

" Mr. Richmond's successful applications of these useful 
rules is well known to all who had opportunity of hearing 
his sermons. Though never offensively colloquial, he was 
well understood by the most illiterate of his congregation ; 
nor was he satisfied until he had explained an idea in every 
26 



302 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

possible variety and point of view. On this account he 
sometimes seemed, to persons unacquainted with his design, 
to employ a needless number of words. It was once pleas- 
antly said, by one who heard him — ' An excellent sermon, 
but with too many various readings.' 

" He was also singularly felicitious in imparting interest 
to what, in familiar phraseology, is called a dry subject. 
He was once known to preach an hour and three quarters, 
on the incidental evidences of Christianity. On this occa- 
sion it was said, by a sensible man who heard him — f This 
is indeed a magnificent sermon! I always thought Mr. 
Richmond a good man, but I now know him to be a great 
man.' 

" Mr. Richmond as we have before noticed, possessed a 
fine taste, and an almost enthusiastic admiration of the 
beauties of nature. From these he often selected illustra- 
tions, and embellished his subjects with allusions to them. 
He used to say, ' There are three books to be studied — the 
book of creation, the book of providence, and the book of 
grace. They confirm and illustrate each other.' 

" These natural talents were consecrated to the service of 
religion, and gave an interest to his preaching, equalled by 
few, and excelled by none. 

" The editor would not be supposed, by these remarks, to 
lose sight of the influence of the Holy Spirit, without whom 
' nothing is strong, and nothing is holy.' He knows that 
c the Gospel is a mighty engine, but only mighty when God 
has the working of it.' Yet is it most evident, that God is 
pleased to make human agency, the natural endowments and 
temperaments, as well as the graces of his servants, subserve 
his purposes ; and in the selection of instruments, there is 
always a peculiar fitness for the work in which he employs 
them. 

" The effect of Mr. Richmond's ministry was also consid- 
erably heightened by the fluency of his addresses. He 
adopted a method of preaching usually called extempore ; 
without premeditation, as to the words of a sermon, but not 
to the exclusion of much previous prayer, and labor in the 
arrangements of its materials. ' It is a singular circum- 






LEGII RICHMOND. 303 

stance,' observes a friend of his early life, ' that his first 
attempt to preach extempore, in the very small church of 
Yaverland, in the Isle of Wight, was a total failure. He 
was so ashamed of it, that he declared he would not repeat 
the attempt, and it was only in consequence of the urgent 
solicitations of our common friend, the Rev. Charles Hoyle, 
that he was induced to make a second trial, when he suc- 
ceeded beyond his hopes, and never afterwards found any 
difficulty.' 

" As a proof of the eminence to which he afterwards 
attained, we venture to introduce another anecdote. 

" The late Mr. Whitbread went to hear him preach at St. 
Paul's, Bedford, in the year 1807, accompanied by a friend, 
who had expressed an earnest wish to be present. The 
church was remarkably crowded — the preacher animated — 
and the interest of the congregation strongly excited. The 
gentleman above alluded to at length observed : ' He has 
now preached with incredible fluency, both as to matter and 
language, for three quarters of an hour, and he does not 
seem even yet to be exhausted, or to be drawing to a close.' 
' Exhausted ! ' replied Mr. Whitbread : ' he can hold on in 
the same way, if necessary, for two or three hours longer.' " 

His peculiar facility and eloquence of address rendered 
his services exceedingly desirable in the public advocacy of 
the leading charities of the day. And with these blessed 
institutions Mr. Richmond co-operated with his characteristic 
ardor and generosity. His platform addresses and pulpit 
discourses were of the highest order, and from this period, 
(1814) until his death, he was constantly engaged, in pri- 
vate or public, in long journics, at anniversaries, and on 
various occasions, in advocating the cause of the Bible, 
Missionary, and Jewish Amelioration Societies. 

In 1824, his son Wilbcrforce, exhibiting unequivocal 
symptoms of consumption, it was thought advisable to send 
him upon a visit to his uncle, a physician in Scotland, it 
being hoped that the sea voyage and change of air would 



304 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

prove salutary. But these expectations were not realized. 
While absent from the parental altar the affectionate interest 
of the father followed him, and induced him to indite a series 
of the most instructive and touching epistles that can well 
be conceived. We select one as an example and a model. 

"' Bradford, Aug. 5, 1824. 
" i My dear Wilherforce : — We have so long been fellow- 
travellers and pilgrims together, and my eye and my heart 
have been so long accustomed to watch over you, that I can- 
not help wishing to indulge my affectionate feelings, by giv- 
ing you a few lines during this short separation, which, short 
as it has been, never ceases to present my dear boy to imag- 
ination and recollection. I have reason to think, and perhaps 
the fault is my own, that you are but imperfectly aware of 
my strong and anxious feeling toward you, with respect both 
to vour temporal and spiritual welfare. I sometimes fancy I 
see this in your manner, and it hurts me. I say little, or 
probably nothing ; but my heart is alive to great sensibilities. 
Rest assured, my much-loved child, that at all past periods, 
but most especially since it has pleased God to put your 
health, and of course with it your life, to so marked a trial, 
I have not ceased for a single hour (and I can hardly except 
the dreaming hours of the night,) to make your comfort and 
prosperity the subject of my prayers and solicitude. When 
you may least have suspected it from my ordinary manner, 
even my silence has spoken to God in your behalf. Many 
and deep have been my meditations, as we ascended the hills, 
and descended the vales of Scotland ; or as we ploughed the 
waters with our prows and paddles. I have often experi- 
enced a kind of stupid impotency of utterance, when my 
heart has been animated and full. You likewise manifest a 
sort of reserve on the subject of personal religion, which 
checks, and sometimes chills, my rising inclination to more 
unreserved, free, congenial, and comfortable conversation. I 
wish all this to vanisli ; and that whatever may be the will 
of God concerning you, the future days which bis providence 
may permit us mutually to spend together, may be - more dis- 



LEGH RICHMOND. 305 

tinctly marked by free and affectionate communications. But 
far, far above all, it is my cherished and anxious hope, that 
you may evince an increasing love to spiritual things, to 
reading, conversing, and meditating upon the things which 
belong to your everlasting peace. You have had your warn- 
ing as to the delicate and precarious tenure by which life, 
health, and youthful vigor are held. Every day and hour 
still reminds you of the uncertainty of all things future, so 
far as this world is concerned. And such warnings are un- 
speakable mercies, designed by God for the most wise and 
benevolent purposes. 

" ' The season of amended health, and present suspension 
of painful and distressing symptoms, is precisely that in 
which your heart should exercise a peculiar jealousy over 
itself, lest the comparative trifles of this world, and the 
ensnaring affections of the flesh, should deaden your feel- 
ings about the grand question, " What are the evidences of 
my salvation ? What have I done, what must I do to be 
saved ? " Other studies than those directly religious, may, 
doubtless, have their due and subordinate place. Other 
books than the Holy Scriptures, and their expositions, may 
also have their moderated share of our attention ; but if any 
human study, or any human book, have more of our love and 
attention, than those which directly lead our hearts to God, 
something must be very wrong. Idols force themselves upon 
our notice every where, and lawful things may become idols 
by the abuse of them, and the suffering them to usurp the 
first place in the heart's affections. Never be contented with 
slight and general hopes of all being right within, but seek 
and strive after clear and particular evidences, that you 
" know whom you have trusted," for time and eternity. I ear- 
nestly entreat you to examine yourself daily on scriptural 
principles, that you may the more ardently throw yourself 
on the mercy of a covenant God for the forgiveness of your 
sins, the renovation of your heart, and the guidance of your 
judgment. Never be satisfied with an avowedly imperfect 
Christianity. A half Christian is no Christian, nor is he 
accepted of God. Christ is a w.hole, perfect, and finished 
Saviour ; and whosoever is a partaker of Christ, is a partaker 

26* 



306 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

of all that he is, all that he has done, and all that he will do, 
for the complete salvation of all his chosen. Decency, for- 
mality, and cold ceremonial worship, are poor and inefficacious 
substitutes for heart-service, holy affections, trust in a Sa- 
viour, and love to God. Not unfrequent are the times, and 
your dear mother often experiences them also, when the im- 
mensity of that question, "Am I his, or am I not?" over- 
whelms me ; and I should sink in despondency, if the pure, 
undeserved, and inexpressible mercy of God, did not direct 
my soul to the Redeemer's blood, which, when believed in, 
and applied to the guilty and trembling conscience, cleanseth 
from all sin, and opens the door to hope and consolation. 
May my beloved child flee to the same fountain with genuine 
humiliation, and find the like deliverance : and may his anx- 
ious parents be made so far partakers of his thoughts, as to 
feel strong in the Lord on his account. My mind was much 
affected when I first received you at the table of the Lord, 
and my heart went out in lively prayer, that you might also 
be received of God — owned, honored, and accepted, as a 
child of heaven. Live, speak, and act as a consistent com 
municant of the church; the vows of the Lord are upon 
you ; but if all be right, you will find that his yoke is easy, 
and his burden light. I wish to look upon you, not only as 
my child by nature, but as my spiritual child, and therefore 
(without a paradox,) my spiritual brother. Sweet associa- 
tions of relationship are formed in the family of God and the 
household of faith. Many tender and affectionate prayers 
have been daily offered up for you amongst the poor people 
of Turvey, as I have several testimonies to prove. We shall 
soon return to them again, God willing; and may those 
prayers, united to my own, be fully answered in the gracious 
state of your soul, as well as in the comfort of your bodily 
health. But we must, as to the latter, await the Lord's 
will. He doeth, and will do all things well. Meditate on 
these things, and may you and I mutually reap the benefit 
of such exercises of your heart. As you read this letter, 
cherish a tender as well as a dutiful sentiment towards him 
who penned it, and accept it as one more token of that 
deep-seated love which I bear towards you, ' and which 






LEGH RICHMOND. 307 

must increasingly subsist, while I remain a father, and you 
a son. 

" ' I yesterday enjoyed the high mental luxury of walking 
in the broad aisle of York Minster, quite alone, during the 
morning service. As often before, such sights and such 
sounds compelled me to weep ; and as I was solitary, nothing 
interrupted the flow of my heart. I recollected being there 
once with you, and I have not forgotten how much, if I mis- 
take not, your infant heart was also affected at that time. 
Whether we shall ever again meet together, in that magnifi- 
cent and astonishing fabric, I know not; but, oh! may God 
grant that we finally meet in the " house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens." ' 

" The summer and autumn were spent in Scotland, in va- 
rious excursions, both by land and sea; but after various 
alternations of hope and fear in this treacherous and delu- 
sive disorder, they returned together to Turvey, without any 
decided amendment in the dear invalid. 

" The period at length approached, when this interesting 
youth, the subject of so many prayers and fond anticipa- 
tions, was to be removed from this earthly scene. The 
wasted form, the hectic look, the sunken eye, and the in- 
creasing difficulty of respiration, all denoted that the hour 
of dissolution was at hand. He looked like a tender flower 
nipped in the bud ; but it was a flower soon to bloom in the 
paradise of God. His Christian graces had been gradually 
unfolding, and his mind carried through a state of anxious 
inquiry and close examination, till it was able to rest in full 
confidence on the grace and mercy of God in Christ Jesus. 
He discovered the most earnest desire for solid peace and 
comfort, both as to the ground of his hope, and its necessary 
evidence. 

" To a friend, who frequently visited him, he said, ' I wish 
to be under no mistake or delusion, in a matter of so much 
importance as the salvation of my immortal soul. Tell me 
where you think I am defective in my views, or wanting in 
the experience of their power. Deal faithfully with me, do 
not deceive me ; pray for me, above all, that I may not de- 
ceive myself.' 



308 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" To the writer, a fortnight before his death, he expressed 
himself as follows : ' I trust I have the Christian's hope, 
but I want more of it. I want more of that hungering and 
thirsting after righteousness, which the Saviour has promised 
to satisfy — which we ought to have at all times ; but which, 
if we have not in death, what is our hope, and how can we 
be prepared to die ? ' 

" The last visit was still more affecting : it was only two 
days before his end. He was sitting in an arm chair, sup- 
ported with cushions, and seemed to be in a very exhausted 
state. His father sat opposite to him, in whose countenance 
was depicted the struggle of nature and of grace ; — of na- 
ture, for he was about to lose his child — of grace, for that 
child was already on the very threshold of glory. In another 
part of the room were three or four of his brothers and sis- 
ters, some of them in tears. ' Speak to this dear boy,' said 
the father, addressing himself to me, ' and question him about 
his hopes.' 

"I sat down at his side, and taking him by the hand, 
said, ' Can you, my dear boy, pass through the valley of the 
shadow of death, and say with David, " I fear no evil ? " 
' Yes, I trust so.' ' What is the ground of your trust ? ' 
' It is because his "rod and his staff they comfort me." My 
hope rests on Christ alone.' ' Have you no doubts to be re- 
moved ? ' 'I had many misgivings, but God has mercifully 
taken them all away.' 'Is your heart wholly and supremely 
set upon God ? Do you truly love him ? ' 'I hope I do, 
but I wish I loved him more.' ' Do you feel weary of sick- 
ness ? ' 'I feel more weary of sin, and long for the time 
when it will be laid asid© for ever.' 'Does the prospect of 
glory animate and support you, and is the holiness and bless- 
edness of heaven the subject of your meditations ? ' - Yes, I 
have been thinking of it with great delight this very morning, 
and almost seem to have entered within its blessed abodes.' 

" I then read to him that beautiful chapter in the Revela- 
tions (the 22d) descriptive of a state of glory. His atten- 
tion was peculiarly arrested. After I had finished, ' This 
happiness,' I said, 'will soon be yours, and the portion of all 
who are the Lord's.' Then gathering his brothers and sis- 



LEGH RICHMOND. 309 

ters around us, I requested him to bear his dying testimony 
to the value of the gospel in this trying hour. 

" He spoke tenderly and affectionately to all ; the marks 
of approaching dissolution, gave an inexpressible interest to 
the whole scene. Then, particularly addressing himself to 
his brother Henry, he observed — ' My dear father once 
hoped to see me a minister in the church. It has pleased 
God to disappoint that hope. Do you fulfil it, in my place, 
and be a comfort to my father, when I am gone.' 

" Three days afterwards, January 16, 1825, his happy 
spirit took its flight to the mansions of the blessed." 

About the same time also, he was deeply afflicted by the 
death of his son Nugent. This boy, contrary to the advice 
and wishes of his father, exhibiting no apparent effect of the 
religious training he had received, chose a sailor's life, and 
embarked in a merchant vessel for Ceylon. About sixteen 
months after his arrival at the designated port, it was an- 
nounced in the public prints that the vessel had been lost and 
all on board perished. Three months afterwards, however, 
Mr. Richmond received a letter from him, announcing the 
reasons of his remaining behind, and not returning in the 
devoted ship. He remained in Calcutta, experiencing the 
vicissitudes of business life, for a while prosperous, and then 
suffering shipwreck, and losing all his gains. The account 
of his unhappy life and death is thus given by the heart- 
stricken father in a letter to his daughter Mary, and should 
"serve as a salutary warning to the children of religious pa- 
rents, and yet encouraging to such parents to exercise 
unlimited confidence in the promises of God." 

" The circumstances attendant upon our dear Nugent's 
end are few and simple. You are aware what a long scries 
of favorable accounts of his general behavior we have had 
from a variety of quarters. You should know, that from at 
least five religious friends I have received highly satisfactory 



310 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

testimonies of his religious feelings and principles, although 
he was modest and reserved in speaking of himself. I had 
much information while I was visiting his most intimate 
friend, Mr. Bailey, in the Isle of Wight, (late of Gibraltar,) 
whose little babe was christened Mercy Nugent Richmond. 
The time of his shipwreck seemed to have been one of special 
prayer and impression. He lost his all. He however re- 
cruited in some degree ; and was engaged to be married to an 
amiable and pious young lady. He took a short voyage, and 
on his return found that she had died of a fever. His spirits 
never recovered that shock. He was afterwards appointed 
commander of a vessel to England. The day "before she 
sailed, he fell out of a gig, was confined to bed, and lost the 
opportunity. Twice afterwards he was similarly disappointed. 
At length he sailed in a ship bound for the Mauritius, 
from whence he intended to have proceeded for England. 

" Previous to this last voyage, he had an attack of fever, 
and went through a severe course of medicine. At the be- 

CD 

ginning of the voyage, meeting with a heavy gale, he had 
much laborious service. In the course of a very short time 
he became ill, and was not unfrequently delirious, but still 
did not excite ideas of immediate danger. One night, he 
went to bed at twelve o'clock, and the next morning at six, 
to the grief and surprise of all on board, was found dead in 
his cabin. 

" His affection for his relatives was very strong. His prin- 
ciples of honorable conduct, integrity, pecuniary accuracy, 
official diligence, kind manners, and moral deportment, were 
exemplary. He lived in much esteem, and died much be- 
loved. Dear boy ! He was snatched from our embraces at 
the hour of his returning to them. He is buried in the 
depths of the ocean. But the sea shall give up her dead, 
and I trust he will then appear a living soul." 

These afflictions bore heavily upon the susceptible heart 
and weakened constitution of Mr. Richmond. He began to 
exhibit pulmonary affections, that the power of medicine 
failed to remove. " There was a visible change in his ap- 
pearance, and his family felt cause for alarm. He said lit 



LEGH RICIIMOND. &11 

tie, but his mind seemed greatly exercised. He sometimes 
repaired to the grave of his son, remaining long absorbed in 
his own reflections. The silence and solitude of this hallowed 
spot soothed and comforted his mind ; ' the waters of healing 
issued from the sanctuary,' and he probably delighted to con- 
template the blessedness of the eternal world, in such imme- 
diate connection with his own dear child. On one occasion, 
accompanied by his daughter, he sat nearly an hour in deep 
musing, without lifting his eyes from the stone that cov- 
ered his beloved remains. At length rising, he exclaimed, 
' Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ.' " 

The account of his death we abridge from a most affecting 
letter of one of his daughters, to a friend of the family. 

" I cannot express the veneration and love with which he 
was regarded by every one of his children. With an under- 
standing of the very first order, a mind elegantly refined 
and polished, and feelings of the most delicate suscep- 
tibility, he had a heart overflowing with intense affec- 
tion towards each of them, which was shown by daily and 
hourly attentions of the most winning nature ; and they 
found in him not only a counsellor and instructor, but a com- 
panion and bosom friend. They clung to him, indeed, 
with an almost idolatrous fondness. Each of my brothers 
and sisters will agree with me in the sentiment of dear Wil- 
berforce, (it was one of my brother's remarks, a little before 
he closed his eyes upon his weeping parent,) < when my heart 
feels too cold to thank God for any thing else, it can thank 
him for giving me such a father.' He was the spiritual as well 
as the natural father of that clear boy, and, I trust, others of 
his children are thus bound to him by a tie strong and last- 
ing as eternity itself. Surely the world does not contain a 
spot of more sweet and uninterrupted domestic happiness 
than Turvey rectory presented, before death entered that 
peaceful dwelling. It was ever the first wish of my beloved 
father, that our home should be happy ; and he was never so 



312 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

pleased as when we were all sitting around him. Both in 
our childhood and youth, every innocent pleasure was resort- 
ed to, and all his varied attainments brought into exercise, 
to instruct and amuse us. He was the sun of our little sys- 
tem, and from him seemed to be derived the light and glow 
of domestic happiness. Like the disciple, whose loving 
spirit I have often thought my dear father's resembled, his 
motto was, 6 little children, love one another; ' and he taught 
this more effectually by sympathy than even by precept. 
Religion was unfolded to us in its most attractive form. We 
saw that it was a happy thing to be a Christian. He was 
exempt from gloom and melancholy, and entered with life 
and cheerfulness into all our sports. 

" In conversation, he did not often urge the subject of re- 
ligion directly on our attention, or question us much as to 
our personal experience of it. He has sometimes regretted 
this, and called it his infirmity ; but I think he adopted a 
more successful plan. He used to watch over us most 
cautiously, and express his opinion in writing : we constantly 
found letters left in our rooms, with directions to think and 
pray over them. Reproof was always conveyed in this way ; 
and he also took the same method of questioning us on experi- 
mental religion, and of beseeching us to become more de- 
cided for God. Sometimes he required an answer, but 
generally his only request was, that we would ' spread his 
letter before the Lord, and think over it.' 

" His reproofs were inexpressibly tender. He was never 
angry with us ; but when we displeased him, he shewed it 
by such a sad and mournful countenance, that it touched us 
to the very heart, and produced more effect than any punish- 
ment could have done, for we saw that it was our dear father 
who suffered the most. In this way he gained such an 
ascendancy over our affections, that none of his children 
could feel happy if his smile was withdrawn, and all regarded 
that smile as a rich reward. 

" The anniversaries of our birth-days were always seasons 
of festivity among us. We were generally awakened w T ith 
his congratulations and blessing. l He rose up early in the 
morning, and offered sacrifice, according to the number of 



LECH RICHMOND. 313 

them all: thus did he continually.'* I love to recall those 
happy and innocent days when our dear father, even in our 
childish sports, was the mainspring of our joys, and the con- 
triver of every amusement. We always found a birth-day 
present for us, often accompanied by an affectionate note. 

" In the summer of 1824, my brother ruptured a blood- 
vessel, and began to spit blood. My dear father discovered 
great anxiety and alarm, though we did not, for a long time, 
know how deeply he was affected. He afterwards told mamma 
that on that morning, as he looked on Wilberforce, he felt a 
shock which seemed to shatter him to the very soul, and from 
which he never after recovered. He did, indeed, to use his 
own words, ' roll the troublous calamity on God,' but nature 
sank under the stroke. 

"In June, 1824, he took a journey to Scotland, to place 
Wilberforce under the care of Dr. Stewart. I was their 
companion in that journey, which I have a mournful pleasure 
in retracing. 

" We returned home in October, with no material benefit 
to our dear invalid : and in January, 1825, after a happy 
and even triumphant experience of the power of religion, 
my brother breathed his last gentle sigh in the arms of his 
afflicted father, who had been, in God's hands, his sole 
teacher, comforter, and supporter. He was ever at the dy- 
ing pillow of his suffering child, reading, praying, and com- 
forting him, by day and by night. Before us, he appeared 
composed and tranquil ; but in his retired moments, I have 
heard him give vent to his feelings, with strong ' crying and 
tears.' I remember, on the evening of Wilberforce's death, 
after he had yielded to the first burst of grief, he clasped 
the inanimate form to his heart, laid it down, dried his tears, 
and collecting us together in the study, he knelt down, and 
uttered only the language of praise and gratitude. For a 
little moment he seemed not only to follow, but to realize his 
child's flight and welcome to the realms of glory. His whole 
conduct seemed to express, ' though I should see his hand 
lifted to slay me, yet from that same hand will I look for 
salvation.' 

* Job i. 5. 

27 



814 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" He was much comforted, at this time, in his parish, and 
in his own family. In the parish, there appeared to be a 
remarkable revival of religion, particularly among the young 
people. It might be truly said, ' there were added to the 
church daily, such as should be saved.' This dear boy's 
death appeared to be the life of many souls ; and, in my 
dear father's own language, ' they were the spiritual roses, 
blooming around the grave of his Willy.' 

" But not in his parish alone was the death of his beloved 
son rendered singularly useful ; his heart was yet more com- 
forted by the hope of solid benefit to his own family. The 
seed which had been sown with many prayers, and watered 
with many tears, though it had hitherto lain dormant, began 
at this time to spring up to the consolation of his bereaved 
heart. With unspeakable tenderness he watched over the 
signs of religious anxiety in his children, weeping over them 
and praying for them with the most vehement affection. 

" It was a few days after Willy's death, that my own mind 
was in a state of agitating anxiety — thirsting for the knowl- 
edge of God and his holiness, yet feeling so ignorant, dark, 
and helpless, that I knew -not where to look for encourage- 
ment or assistance. My ignorance was my great burden. 
I felt as if I never could understand religion, and with these 
feelings I went into the study, where I found my beloved pa- 
rent in deep meditation. He seemed to perceive at one 
glance what was the matter. In his engaging manner he 
took me on his knee, and folding me to his heart, begged me 
to tell him all I felt. This was the first time I had opened 
my mind to him on the subject of religion. I tried to tell 
him my feelings, dwelling particularly on my ignorance and 
total blindness in spiritual things. With striking humility 
and condescension, he replied, ' Well, my dear child, we will 
begin religion together. We will set out in the first step, 
for I have as much need as you to begin all again. We must 
go to Jesus Christ to be set right. We will ask to be taught 
the first lesson in his religion, and wait in the ignorance of 
babes for his instruction.' 

" In the following winter, my dear father's failing spirits 
sustained another severe shock. We were expecting every 



LEGH RICHMOND. 315 

week our eldest brother from India. He left home at the 
age of fifteen, and eleven years had now elapsed since his 
father had seen him. Many singular and affecting circum- 
stances had occurred during this interval. He was thrice 
shipwrecked ; and on one occasion, with only a few others, 
he got safe to shore. In his early youth he had been a 
source of much sorrow to his parents, but in a far distant 
land his heart was turned to the God of his father ; and we 
received the most satisfactory testimonies to his conversion. 

" My father's sensitive feelings were strained to the high- 
est pitch in expectation of meeting his dear sailor-boy, who 
was on his return to visit us ; and he was preparing to wel- 
come the i son who was lost, and is found, was dead, and 
is alive again,' when the mournful tidings of his death 
reached us. 

" Both the mind and body of my dear father were shat- 
tered by this intelligence. But though suffering most acutely, 
he was, as in the former bereavement, the comforter and 
stay of his family ; concealing his own feelings to mitigate 
theirs. 

a He used to be much at home at this time, communing 
with his own heart, in his chamber, in silence : and no doubt 
it was his fervent and frequent devotion which strengthened 
and enabled him 6 to comfort those who were in trouble, by 
the comfort wherewith he himself was comforted of God.' 

" He had shut himself up for six weeks, and never ap- 
peared in public, except on the Sunday; but when he heard 
of the anxiety of the people to see him, and share the sor- 
rows of their beloved pastor, he desired them to assemble in 
the school-room; and he went there to meet them. It was 
evidently too trying and exciting for his weak frame. For 
some time he could not speak ; but when he recovered him- 
self, his address was inexpressibly touching, and yet comfort- 
ing. The people wept with him, and felt his sorrows as their 
own. He told them, that, conscious of their interest in him, 
and of their anxiety to know his state of mind under this 
afflicting rod, he had come on purpose to tell them what God 
could do for the soul that looked to him for help ; that they 
might magnify the Lord with him, and exalt his name to- 



316 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

gether. He said, that while he had been shut up in the 
solitude of his study, for the last six weeks, in silent com- 
muning with God, he had learnt to feel, ' it is good for me 
that I have been afflicted' — that the experience of his soul 
during that trying season had been, ' in the multitude of my 
thoughts within me, thy comforts have refreshed my soul.' 

" He then expounded the 107th Psalm, with reference to 
poor Nugent' s case ; and expressed himself with more than 
ordinary energy and freedom. He had been tried, but he 
came forth as gold. His heavenly Father seemed to say to 
him, ' My son, give me thine heart ; ' and the answer of his 
soul was — ' There is none upon earth I desire in comparison 
of thee.' While fainting beneath the heavy load of suffering, 
he tried to say, like his blessed Master, ' the cup which my 
Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?' 

" He now resumed his usual cottage meetings ; and though 
his "constitution was evidently sinking, and he was laboring 
far beyond his strength, he could not be persuaded to relax 
or lessen any of his pastoral engagements. We earnestly 
requested him to retire for a season from his duties ; but, 
contrary to his usual yielding temper, he remained inflexible ; 
adding, either ' it does not injure me ; ' or, ' I shall suffer 
more in my mind, by giving them up, than in my body, by 
attending to them.' The last year of his life he had a con- 
stant irritating cough, which finally settled upon his lungs, 
and was no doubt much increased by such frequent talking 
and exposure to the night air. 

" His public discourses at this time were particularly 
awakening, as well as confirming. While he warned his 
flock, with deep solemnity, ' lest any man fail of the grace 
of God,' he enlarged on the divine promises, the glory of 
the Saviour, and the blessedness of the redeemed. A poor 
woman remarked to me — ' Your dear papa preaches as if 
he was near home. 

" My dear father's cough continued, and he became very 
thin ; and every one remarked how ill he looked. But he 
appeared not to notice it, and we thought he did not appre- 
hend danger: we have since found that we were mistaken, 
and that he ' always looked on the cough as a summons from 



LEGH RICHMOND. 317 

above.' He abated nothing of his work, and still continued 
his visits to the poor. It was in the cottage of sorrow, and 
by the bed of the dying, that my beloved parent's character 
appeared the brightest. He was the father, as well as the 
minister of his people ; and they brought all their difficulties 
and troubles to him, and ever found in him a tender and ju- 
dicious adviser. He had particular pleasure in conversing 
with the pious poor, and said he had learnt some of his best 
lessons from them ; that the religion of the poor, in general 
was more spiritual and sincere than that of the rich ; that 
they lived more simply the life of faith on the Son of God. 
I have seen my beloved father in public, when the gaze of 
admiration was fixed on him, and in the private drawing- 
room I have beheld him the delight and entertainment of the 
company, and my heart has exulted in him ; but it was when 
smoothing the pillow of poverty and death, that I most loved 
and venerated him, and discovered the image of that Saviour 
' who went about doing good.' 

" In the month of February he went to Cambridge for a 
fortnight, to enter Henry. This was another subject of 
great anxiety to his mind ; he dreaded the temptations of a 
college life ; and expressed much solicitude lest his dear 
inexperienced boy should be corrupted, and his religion 
injured. 

" When he returned from Cambridge, we thought he look- 
ed better. He had been among friends he loved, and he 
derived great pleasure from his visit, and appeared more 
cheerful and lively than we had known him for the last two 
years. He entered into conversation with spirit, and even 
amused and entertained us in his engaging manner. We 
spent one week with him in this improved state of health and 
spirits ; but he soon relapsed into his former thoughtful si- 
lence. The next week he caught a fresh cold, and his cough 
returned with greater violence ; yet he would have preached 
on the following Sunday, if his voice had not entirely failed 
him. I do not think he imagined that he had seen his peo- 
ple for the last time, but that he anticipated a temporary 
amendment, sufficient to enable him to go amongst them 
again. But his ministry was closed : and he was to meet 

27* 



318 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

. them no more till the y met at the judgment seat of Christ ! 
To prevent increase of cold, he kept entirely to his study, 
and never came down stairs after that Sunday ; yet he read 
and wrote as usual. 

" It may seem extraordinary that he never spoke to us on 
the subject of his death ; but those can understand it who 
knew the exquisite tenderness and susceptibility of his feel- 
ings. His affection indeed was almost his affliction. He 
could not bear to witness the sorrow which would have filled 
our hearts in the certain and near prospect of separation. 
He wished us, I think, to understand his situation, and to ob- 
serve in silence. 

" There were no violent symptoms to mark the approach 
of death, but a gradual decay of strength. He sat with us 
as usual in his study-chair to the very last day — almost to 
the last hour. I recollect many things which I did not then 
understand, but which now show me that he was preparing 
for death : with surprising calmness he set his house in order. 
He made a catalogue of his principal books, with memoranda 
how they were to be disposed of; also of his minerals and 
philosophical apparatus ; he emptied all the cupboards round 
the room, which had not been done for many years ; he burnt 
every book which he thought of an injurious tendency. All 
this was done for the most part in silence, it being painful 
for him to speak, even in a whisper. I have seen him sit 
for an hour together in the deepest abstraction of thought — 
then he would raise his eyes, the tears streaming down his 
pale cheeks, clasping his hands, as if in the fervency of im- 
portunate prayer — and again all was composure, and he 
looked peaceful and happy. He seemed to be maintaining 
a constant communion with God. I know he felt deeply for 
his children, whom he was about to leave young and inexpe- 
rienced — exposed to a world of sin and temptation. My 
brother and I have frequently heard him break forth in 
prayer for us when we had scarcely closed his door. The 
sounds were faint and broken, but we understood their im- 
port ; and the unutterable tenderness of his manner towards 
us is even now too affecting to dwell upon. He would some- 
times open his arms for me to come to him, and laying his 



LEGH RICHMOND. 319 

head upon my shoulder, would fall again into deep thought. 
His parish also was always upon his mind. He was continu- 
ally inquiring about the people, and sending me with mes- 
sages to them ; and he listened with much interest to the 
report I made of them. 

" He often recurred to Henry's residence at college, and 
talked of his fears for his dear boy, till he was quite spent. 
He would say, ' I have seen the ruin of so many promising 
youths by a college life, and those apparently as amiable and 
pious as my own dear child. I know the difficulty of main- 
taining spiritual religion at Cambridge. Even studies which 
are in themselves lawful, and which he ought to pursue, have 
a tendency to weaken piety, and interrupt private devotion. 
Christ has often been crucified between classics and mathe- 
matics. I wish him to be diligent in his studies, but the 
Bible is the proper library for a young man entering into the 
church. If he does but understand the Bible experiment- 
ally, I shall be content. Bid him, F , to be very care- 
ful of his companions, that they be few, and more advanced 
in religion than himself; and particularly that he attends 

Mr. S 's ministry. It cheers my heart, that there is 

such a ministry at Cambridge. Be sure you talk to him 
about these things. Warn him of declensions, and against 
sacrificing religion to the desire of distinction. That dear 
boy, and his approaching trials, are never out of my 
thoughts ; I think of him by day, and dream of him by 
night.' 

" We found in his desk a sheet of paper, on which was 
written ' Cambridge documents.' These were directions for 
Henry, but not finished. He had often expressed a great 
desire to see a son in the church, ready to take his place. 
* If I might but hear a true gospel sermon from one of my 
children, I should die in peace.' On another occasion, he 
expressed great delight that his young friend, C. H — — , 
visited the poor, and said, ' you must recommend this to 
Henry, as the very best preparation for the ministry. Try, 

my dear F , to keep him up to it. Tell him his poor 

father learnt his most valuable lessons for the ministry, and 
his most useful experience in religion, in the poor man's 
cottage. ' 



320 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" The last time he spoke to me on personal religion, he 
endeavored to establish my mind in the doctrine of assur- 
ance, and enlarged on its importance, and its tendency to 
promote both comfort and obedience. He pointed to Arch- 
bishop Leighton as my pattern : ' See how holily and lov- 
ingly that man walked with God, because he believed that 
his salvation was safe and settled, that he was chosen in 
Christ. Try, my dear child, to expand your views ; look at 
the magnificent scheme of salvation — the contract between 
the Father and his eternal Son. How much better to look 
out of self, and see all perfected in Christ. You will never 
be happy and strong, till you grasp the covenant plan of 
redemption. You live upon self too much : you will get 
misery and despair, but nothing else, by looking to yourself. 
Live upon Christ ; he has done all for you, if you could but 
believe it.' 

" Of the last sermons I read to him, one was entitled, 
' Hope amidst Billows,' the . other, < The Believer a Hero.' 
This last I read twice to him ; and he expressed much delight 
in listening to it. It seemed to suit the state of his mind, 
and corresponded with his own sentiments. At one part of 
the sermon he stopped me, that he might meditate on what 
he heard, and then he said, ' Read it again.' It seemed to 
cheer his mind. When I had finished it, 6 This,' said he, 
' exactly expresses what I would say to you ; that is just my 
sentiment ; ' and he told me to turn down the leaf, that he 
might show it to mamma. 

" Three days after, he asked me to read one of Newton's 
letters, from the volume entitled l The Aged Pilgrim's Tri- 
umph.' He listened to me with interest, but did not speak, 
except to thank me. 

" When his meals were brought to him, he used to clasp 
his wasted hands, and ask a blessing. ' I thank thee, heav- 
enly Father, for these undeserved mercies to such an unwor- 
thy sinner.' There may be nothing more in the words than 
any other Christian would utter ; but the humility and rev- 
erence of his manner deeply affected us. 

" Nearly the whole of Good Friday, he sat in a solemn 
prayerful meditation, with that exquisite print of Guido's 






LEGH RICHMOND. 321 

before him, the head of our Saviour crowned with thorns. 
His attention seemed rivetted on it, but he said nothing. 

" On Easter Sunday, the sacrament was administered at 
the church. This day he regarded with peculiar reverence, 
and some new converts generally partook of the sacred or- 
dinance at this time, whom he had been preparing during the 
past year. The delight with which he gave them these em- 
blems of the body and blood of Christ was very uncommon. 
It would cheer his spirits for weeks. This was the first 
Easter Sunday, during his residence at Turvey, that he had 
been prevented from joining his church, and commemo- 
rating the resurrection of our blessed Redeemer ; and he 
seemed to feel the privation deeply. Before we went to 
church, he told us to remember him at the table, and he 
would join the communion of the saints in his study. He 
said, ' I shall look at my watch, and mark the exact time, 
and read the service, that I may be one with, you in the fel- 
lowship of the redeemed.' On our return, we saw the 
prayer book open before him, and he was still intent on the 
communion service. He looked up with great composure in 
his countenance, and said, ' I have followed you in every 
sentence, and I think I may say, I have indeed been with 
you, and enjoyed a sweet communion.' 

" Two days before his death, he received a letter, men- 
tioning the conversion of two persons (one of whom was a 
clergyman) by the perusal of his tract, i The Dairyman's 
Daughter.' When the letter was given him, he seemed too 
feeble to open it himself, and desired Henry to read it to 
him. The contents deeply interested him. He raised him- 
self in his chair, lifted up his hand, and then let it fall down 
again, while he repeatedly shook his head. His manner 
spoke the greatest humility, as if he would say — ' How un- 
worthy of such honor I ' For a few minutes it seemed to 
administer a cordial to his fainting spirit, and led our minds, 
in reference to our dear father, to contemplate the near ful- 
filment of that promise, ' They that turn many to righteous- 
ness, shall shine as the stars for ever and ever.' 

" On Tuesday, the 8th of May, he rose later than usual: 
I think it was twelve before he got into the study ; and he 



322 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

was so weak, that he had great difficulty in walking there 
from his bed-room. His breath was short, and he looked 
very pale, but he said he felt no pain. He sat on his read- 
ing-chair, with his head resting on a pillow : his countenance 
and manner was calm and peaceful. In the afternoon he 
could scarcely support himself; and I kneeled on a chair 
behind him, and he laid his head on my shoulder. Once he 
seemed to be fainting, but he soon revived ; and, looking 
calmly at me, he said, ( Better, now, love.' 

" Mamma could no longer stay in the room, and I was left 
alone with him till five. He still said nothing, except to as- 
sure me he felt no pain. To the very last, it appeared to be 
his great desire to spare our feelings. We now persuaded 
him to go to bed, but we little thought death was so near. 
He could not walk, and we were going to ring for a servant 
to assist him ; but he said, ' I should like Henry to carry 
me.' He was wasted to a skeleton : Henry took him up 
with great ease, and we all followed. I shall never forget 
this most affecting moment : it was a moment of anguish to 
me, more than the last scene. He seemed to know that he 
was leaving the study, never to return to it: his look told 
me that he knew it. This was his favorite room, where for 
more than twenty years he had constantly carried on his 
pursuits. There he had written his books — studied his ser- 
mons — instructed his children — conversed with his flock, 
and offered daily sacrifice of praise and prayer. I watched 
him, as Henry carried him out : his countenance preserved 
the same look of fixed composure. He raised his head, and 
gave one searching look round the room, on his books — his 
table — his chair — his wife — his children; — and then the 
door closed on him for ever ! He gave the same look round 
the gallery, through which we passed, as if he was bidding 
farewell to every thing. There was a peculiar expression in 
his countenance, which I cannot describe; it seemed to say, 
' Behold, I die, but God will be with you!' Henry seated 
him in a chair, and he sat to be undressed, like a little de- 
pendant child, in deep silence, but without the ruffling of a 
feature. 

" About nine, he seemed rather wandering, 'and made an 






LEGH RICHMOND. 323 

effort to speak, but we could not make out his meaning ; only 
we perceived he was thinking of his church, for we heard 
him say several times, ' It will be all confusion ! ' Mamma 
asked him what would be confusion. ' The church ! There 
will be such confusion in my church ! ' 

" About ten o'clock, he signified to mamma, in the gentlest 
whisper, that he wished to be left alone — to send us all 
away, and draw the curtains round him. 

"About half-past ten, Mrs. G., the kind and faithful nurse 
of Willy, tapped at my door. I was reading the Bible, and 
had just reached that verse, ' That ye be not slothful, but 
followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the 
promises.' I have thought the coincidence remarkable, at 
least I trust it will ever give a quickening influence to that 
passage, when I read it. She told me to come and look at 
my father. She said she could hardly tell whether there 
was any change or not. I hurried to him. He raised his 
eyes to heaven, and then closed them. I put my cheek upon 
his ; and I believe at that instant I felt, for I could not hear, 
his dying sigh. I thought he was sleeping, and continued 
looking at him, till Hannah said, * Your dear papa is in 
heaven.' I did not think him dead, and I rubbed his still 
warm hands, and kissed his pale cheek, and entreated him to 
speak one word to me : but I soon found it was the silence 
of death. All turned to poor mamma, who was insensible ; 
and I was thus left alone with my dear father, kneeling be- 
side him with his hand in mine. The same holy calm sat on 
his countenance, and seemed to say — 'Thanks be to God, 
who hath given me the victory ! '" 



324 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



GEORGE PICKERING 

This eminently useful and respected minister of the 
gospel, whose unblemished character, remarkable sacri- 
fices, and long-extended labors, fully confirmed the sincerity 
of his professions, and gave an extraordinary moral power 
to the sublime scenes that transpired in his dying chamber, 
was born in Talbot county, Maryland, in 1769. He became 
a professed and experimental Christian at the age of eigh- 
teen, and connected himself with the St. George's Methodist 
Episcopal Church, in Philadelphia. Soon after, the church 
discovering in the young convert peculiar gifts and grace, 
acknowledged the divine call that he had received from his 
Master, and urged him forward into the office and work of a 
minister of the gospel. He entered the Methodist Itiner- 
ancy in 1790, and continued until 1847- — a period of 
nearly sixty years — in the active discharge of all the duties 
of a most laborious ministry. 

His fields of labor were chiefly in New England, in almost 
all portions of which, in the regular operations of the Meth- 
odist economy, he preached with great success. Within the 
limits of this extended field, he was indeed " known and 
read of all men." For purity and dignity of character, 
singleness of purpose, sterling good sense, and unwearied 
diligence in benevolent labors and sacrifices, he stood second 
to none in his generation. He moved about in community, 
in the latter years of his life, a venerable representative of 
other days — his grey hairs a crown of glory — ■ command- 
ing the respect and securing the affections of all classes : 
the old and the young, and the members of different Chris- 
tian communions, and even those not connected with any 
religious denomination. Mr. Stevens, in his •" Memorials 



GEORGE PICKERING. 325 

of Methodism," speaks thus of Mr. Pickering. " George 
Pickering was a rare man in all respects. Any just deline- 
ation of him must comprehend the whole man, for it was not 
his distinction to be marked by a few extraordinary traits, 
but by general excellence. In person he was tall, slight, 
and perfectly erect. His countenance was expressive of 
energy, shrewdness, self-command, and benignity ; and his 
silvered locks, combed precisely behind his ears, gave him 
in his latter years, a strikingly venerable appearance. The 
exactitude of his mind extended to all his physical habits. 
In pastoral labors, exercise, diet, sleep, and dress, he fol- 
lowed a fixed course, which scarcely admitted deviation. 
* * * His personal habits had the mechanical regu- 
larity of clock-work. During his Itinerant life, he devoted 
to his family, at Waltham, Mass., a definite portion of his 
time ; but even these domestic visits were subjected to the 
most undeviating regularity. During fifty years of married 
life, he spent, upon an average, but about one fifth of his 
time at home — an aggregate of ten years out of fifty ! 
The rigor of his habits, may, indeed, have been too severe. 
It reminds us of the noble but defective virtue of the old 
Roman character. If business called him to the town of 
his family residence, at other times than those appropriated 
to his domestic visits, he returned to his post of labor with- 
out crossing the threshold of his home. In that terrible 
calamity, which spread gloom over the land — the burning 
of the steamer Lexington, by night, on Long Island Sound — 
he lost a beloved daughter ; the intensity of the affliction 
was not capable of enhancement, yet he stood firmly on his 
ministerial watch-tower, though with a bleeding heart, while 
his family, but a few miles distant, were frantic with anguish. 
Not till the due time did he return to them ; when it arrived, 
he entered his home with a sorrow-smitten spirit — pressed 
28 



326 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

in silence the hand of his wife, and, without uttering a word, 
retired to an adjacent room, where he spent some hours in 
solitude and unutterable grief. Such a man reminds us of 
Brutus, and in the heroic times would have been commemo- 
rated as superhuman. * * The moral features 
of his character were pre-eminent, and yet we feel a diffi- 
culty in attempting to discriminate them. ~N.o one virtue 
stood out in relief amidst a multitude of contrasting defects. 
The best designation we can give of his character is, that it 
was uniform and complete integrity, and this comprehensive 
estimate will need no qualification to any one who knew him 
intimately. * * In his religious character he was 
unaffectedly and profoundly devout. He had an unwaver- 
ing faith in the evangelical doctrines. . ' Christ, and him 
crucified,' was the joy of his heart, the ground of his hope, 
and the theme of his preaching. His zeal was ardent, but 
steady — never flickering, through fifty-seven years of minis- 
terial labors and travels. It gave peculiar energy to his 
discourses. For more than half a century his armor was 
never off, but he was always ready for every good word and 
work. He was incessant in prayer, and who ever heard 
from him a languid supplication ? He continued to the last 
the godly habit, common among his early associates in the 
ministry, of praying after meals, in any company, however 
casual or vivacious the circle. He was a man of one work, 
the ministry of reconciliation — and of one purpose, the 
glory of God." 

And he died as he lived — he ripened and matured until 
the last, and then fell at his post with his armor on, ceasing 
" at once to work and live." His last sickness is thus 
sketched by the same pen that drew the above truthful por- 
traiture of his character. 

" After a week of illness and much pastoral labor, dur- 



GEORGE PICKERING. 327 

ing which he was often compelled, by weakness, to repose on 
the wayside, he ascended the pulpit on the Sabbath ; but 
during the sermon he sunk down insensible, and was carried 
from the church to his lodgings. The next day was the 
regular time for his periodical visit to his family. He 
started, therefore, for a village at the depot of the railroad, 
on which he was to pass to his home the following morning. 
Though languishing with a fever, he insisted on preaching 
that evening. It was a discourse of great power — his last 
proclamation of the ' glorious gospel.' 

" On reaching his home, his fate was sealed. At one 
time, however, his symptoms were favorable, and his physi- 
cian informed him that the crisis of the disease was past. 
He called his companion to his bedside, and ordered his 
clothes to be immediately prepared, that he might depart 
the next day to his charge. The ruling passion was strong 
in death." 

Better things were reserved for him. His work was 
done, and the reward at hand. He continued to decline 
during several weeks ; his faith, meanwhile, growing stronger, 
and his hope brighter, each day. His chamber became a 
sanctuary, where the glory of God descended and abode. 
A company of his Christian friends in Boston, including all 
the pastors of the city, visited him shortly before his depar- 
ture. One of them has given the following description of 
their interview. 

" Such was his extreme feebleness, that visitors, and even 
audible devotional exercises, had been almost entirely inad- 
missable in his chamber. It was feared, therefore, before 
our arrival, that it would be possible only to send up to him 
the assurance of our Christian regard, without the privilege 
of a personal interview. At his own request, however, we 
were all permitted to approach his bedside. A scene ensued 



328 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

there which no pen can describe. As it was impossible for 
him to address the visitors individually, one of them was 
designated to speak to him in behalf of all ; but under the 
necessary restriction of doing so in the briefest possible 
manner. On taking the hand of the aged sufferer, he 
opened his eyes, and showed his recognition of the brother 
addressing him, by tears of affection. The following brief 
conversation ensued. 

" ' Beloved father, a number of your ministerial brethren 
are present, and have requested me to express to you their 
Christian affection and sympathy. 

" He replied, with strong emphasis and tears, ' I thank 
you ; you all have a high place in my affections.' 

" * They are happy to learn that in this, your extremity, 
you still rejoice in hope of the glory of God.' 

" < Yes ! yes ! ' 

" ' That you feel that the sting of death is extracted.' 

" ' Yes ! yes ! ' 

" ' And that you can resign yourself fully into the hands 
of your God.' 

" ' Yes ! yes ; glory be to his name ! ' 

" Grasping the hand of the brother addressing him, with 
still firmer hold, he then, with tears and sobs, exclaimed, 
' You all have my high esteem and affection. Tell, tell 
the brethren to preach Christ and him crucified — an all- 
able, all-powerful, all-willing, all-ready Saviour — a present 
Saviour, saving now. Preach, Now is the accepted time, 
now is the day of salvation. tell them to preach holiness, 
holiness is the principal theory. Preach holiness, holiness — 
God enable you to preach holiness.' 

" His emotions overcame him — he attempted to say more, 
bat the brother conducting the conversation, closed it by 



GEORGE PICKERING. 329 

a ' We thank God, dear father, for the good testimony and 
counsel we have been permitted to receive from you ; we 
shall never forget it. We regret that your condition will 
not allow us to linger longer with you ; trusting that the 
agitation of your feelings will not injure you, we take our 
leave, to meet you in heaven. God bless you ! Farewell I ' 

" The scene was touching and sublime — a hoary and 
heroic veteran of the cross was standing between both 
worlds, about to disappear from his fellow-laborers for ever 
on earth. Full of years, and virtues, and services, he was 
now victorious over death, and giving his departing coun- 
sels to his brethren. We broke away from his room, so near 
the gate of heaven, with deep emotions, and assembled in 
the parlor below, where we sung, within reach of his hearing, 

' On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,' &c. 

After which the company knelt in prayer, and committing 
the venerable saint, his family, and ourselves, to God, we 
returned to the city, thanking God, ' who giveth us the vic- 
tory through our Lord Jesus Christ,' and feeling that we had 
enjoyed a memorable day." 

The following description of his final hours was given by 
his son-in-law, who was with him during his sickness : 

He was much in prayer — earnest, importunate prayer. 
From the nature of his complaint, he was obliged to be 
gotten up nearly every hour, night and day; and he 
never did this, without breathing out his soul in fervent 
prayer. However great his weakness, a few moments must 
be spent in this manner, unless faintness precluded the pos- 
sibility. Patience and resignation marked every hour of his 
life ; he was pleased and grateful for all attention bestowed, 
and often expressed a fear that it would prove injurious to 
those who watched with him. He thought lightly of the ser- 
vices he had rendered the church, and often expressed a hu- 

28* 



330 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

miliating sense of himself, and rested solely on the merits of 
Christ. I recollect his repeating with earnestness, one night, 
a passage from the Psalms : — " The days of our years are 
three score years and ten ; and if by reason of strength 
they be four score years, yet is their strength labor and 
sorrow ; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." "I am la- 
boring," said he, " under a sense of weakness and pain ; sor- 
rowing that I have ever done any thing contrary to the mind 
of my Maker." He then paused a moment, and added an 
expression of trust in God. 

Frequently, in the otherwise silent hours of the night, 
would he break forth, and shout the praises of God. Glory ! 
glory I glory ! would sometimes be the language, or, "Heav- 
en, sweet heaven, I want to go to heaven." Such was his 
extreme weakness, that we feared to converse with him much 
on religious subjects, as the least excitement completely 
exhausted him, so that for hours after he scarcely spoke, and 
nothing excited him more than this. One night, when Rev. 
J. B. H. was watching with him, and he was suffering much 
from restlessness and pain, he said, " You see how I have to 
do, but it is all right; God can't do wrong, can't do wrong — 
perfect God!" "We alone are imperfect," said Br. H. 
"Yes, yes," he replied, "It is all right; I deserve it all. 
Blessed Jesus ! Jesus ! Jesus ! Saviour of sinners ! Glorious 
God! — Glory! Glory! Glory! Glory!" 

Holiness was the requirement which engrossed most of 
his attention. " We serve a holy God, and he requires a 
holy heart," he would say. At one time, when Mrs. Pick- 
ering asked him if he desired to get well, he replied, " God's 
will be done. I had rather die than sin." His meaning 
was, that he wished to have no will of his own, and sooner 
than have the least desire contrary to the will of God, he 
had rather die. It was the doctrine he had preached and 
practised, and he found it not only good to live by, but good 
to die by. On this point he expressed himself very fully. 
"I desire," said he to Mrs. Pickering, "a pure heart. 
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." And 
he rejoiced in the soul-cheering thought, that .he possessed 
the wished for treasure through the blood of Christ. There 



GEORGE PICKERING. 331 

was no doubt on this point in his mind ; it was clear as the 
sun at noon-day. He remarked at one time, " I have no 
doubt with regard to my acceptance; all will be well ;" 
and then inquired if his wife, whom he was addressing, had 
any with regard to him. " No ! " she replied, " never for a 
moment." A blessed testimony from a dying man, of God's 
willingness to save to the uttermost. 

There were many thrilling scenes — scenes never to be 
forgotten — that transpired in his sick room, when he met 
those with whom he had labored in the vineyard of his Mas- 
ter. His meeting with that company of preachers who came 
to his bedside, has already been noticed in this paper. 
None will ever forget his emotion, and earnestness of man- 
ner, as he cried, Holiness/ holiness! holiness! holiness! or 
expressed his high regard for them as ambassadors of Christ. 

When Father Taylor came to his bedside, some days after, 
he grasped both his hands firmly, as in the strength of youth, 
pressed them to his heart, while the tears, in big drops, 
rolled down the cheeks of both. Neither could speak until 
Father Taylor exclaimed, My Father ! My Father ! and after 
a moment he spoke in nearly the same language as to the 
preachers. Farewell passed their lips, and they parted, to 
meet no more on earth. 

To the preachers he left his last request. I was going to 
the city a short time before he ceased to talk ; he called me 
to his bedside, and said, with emphasis, " Tell the preachers, 
from me, to live holy, preach Christ, and meet me in 
heaven.'' To Mrs. Pickering, he said, "If I die, tell the 
preachers, tell the Conference, to preach holiness, as my 
dying admonition." 

His physician said to him one morning, " Father, I fear 
you will not live to see another Sabbath on earth." " Glory 
to God," was the prompt reply. But we might enumerate 
many, very many such scenes, if time or space would 
permit. 

His mind, during most of the time, was perfectly clear, 
perfectly himself, until about a fortnight before his death. 
Then, for some eight or nine days, he was occasionally wan- 
dering for a few moments at a time. When in this state, 



332 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

he was always laboring for the church, in imagination, per- 
haps, in some of his old appointments. No word was uttered 
but was perfectly proper, showing how pure was the spirit 
within. He continued in this way until about four days be- 
fore his death, when the clouds parted ; the fury of his dis- 
ease seemed to be spent, and nothing remained — 

" But for the busy wheels of life to stand still." 

None, who saw him, will ever forget the expression of his 
countenance ; so much like heaven, so purely spiritual, so 
little of earth — 

" A look such as limners give 
To the beloved disciple." 

It seemed as though the very angels of purity were look- 
ing out of the windows of the soul ; as though the earthly 
had ceased to exert its influence over the spiritual, and the 
fluttering spirit, pure through the blood of Christ, was leav- 
ing its blessed parting impress upon the clay tenement, so 
long its habitation, as it took its final departure until the 
resurrection of the just. Every lineament of his counte- 
nance glowed with unearthly beauty, and seemed to reflect 
the radiance of that joy " which is unspeakable and full of 
glory." Lamb-like patience, or entire submission, was the 
prevailing expression, while gleams of light, triumphant light, 
seemed to play upon his venerable features. Each marked 
that look, as they gazed upon the venerated - patriarch, so 
near his home ; and it left an impression never to be forgot- 
ten. It reminded me more of the countenance of the figure 
personifying the Church, in Annelli's celebrated painting, 
than any thing earthly I have ever seen. But this was life, 
stern reality ; and there are expressions, so much like 
heaven, that earthly genius, with all its triumphs, is utterly 
incompetent to portray. Words cannot express it ; but it is 
written upon the inner temple of many hearts. Before, he 
had prayed, " Lord, have mercy, have mercy ; take me home 
to heaven, sweet heaven ! " Now he sees the " chariot of 
Israel, and horsemen thereof descending," and he exclaims, 
" Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for 
mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 



GEORGE PICKERING. 333 

He recognized all -who came to his bedside, and when he 
could not speak, pressed the hand, while emotion was visibly 
manifested. He seemed to have an unclouded view of his 
place of rest, and an earnest of that "inheritance which is 
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." To his 
wife, he said, in broken whispers, " I am happy in the Lord; 
you are not left as some are ; you have a good God to go 
to." His son-in-law, Mr. Bemis, watched with him Sabbath 
night, and finding him so weak, he said to him, with much 
emotion, "Father, we fear you cannot live till morning." 
" Why ? " he asked. " Because you are so feeble." " Glory 
to God!" he replied, "then I'm almost home. Glory! 
Glory! Glory! Glory!" And he said also to him, " My 
affairs, for time and eternity, are all settled. Glory to 
God." 

He was now rapidly failing ; the angel of death hung over 
our dwelling, and we dreaded every moment lest he should 
tlo his work. During the Sabbath and Monday, he remained 
in the same happy frame of mind, lying in one position, as 
such was his weakness and liability to faint, that we dare not 
move him, lest the fatigue should be attended with fatal con- 
sequences. On Monday evening there was no particular 
change, except he grew weaker, and respiration became more 
difficult. About ten o'clock the family took leave of him for 
the night, and, as it proved, for ever on the earth. This 
arrangement was necessary, as most of the family had been 
sick of fever. 0, what a scene! He grasped every hand, 
and looking towards heaven, seemed engaged, for a moment, 
in prayer ; they each imprinted a kiss upon his pale brow, 
already damp with the moisture of death ; his lips, already 
purple, moved to say farewell, but refused to perform their 
office ; but the expression of his countenance beamed with 
the same angelic beauty, and glowed with the same heavenly 
radiance. 

Two kind and careful watchers had been provided, who 
had been much with him ; but though I had just risen from 
a bed of sickness, I could not leave him, and I remained all 
night in the room. 

About half past twelve, I went to his bedside, and asked 



334 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

him if he knew me, he replied in the negative hy slightly 
turning his head. I gave him my name, and he immediately 
grasped my hands and pressed them to his bosom, and tried 
to shout, as nearly as I could distinguish, Glory! Glory! 
At this time I called some of the friends, but as no particu- 
lar change had taken place, such was the state of their 
health, that they retired. 

About half past five o'clock, I made preparations to rest 
for an hour, but with the express injunction that I should be 
called, if there appeared the least change for the worse. 
Before leaving, I went to his bedside for the last time ; the 
blood had already settled under his nails, the film of death 
seemed to be gathering upon the eye, but the unusual heat 
attending these symptoms, deceived me, and I thought he 
might survive some hours ; he pressed my hand as firmly and 
cordially as usual ; I placed my ear to his lips, but could 
only hear the word Glory — the last he spoke on earth. 
Fifteen or twenty minutes after I left the room, his son-in- 
law entered, but he had ceased to breathe ; and so peace- 
fully, so calmly, that he looked as if in a sweet sleep. We 
could not for hours realize that the spirit was gone, such was 
the impress it had left on the tenement of clay. It seemed, 
as Mrs. Pickering passionately exclaimed, as though " he 
must speak." Those lips had never refused their office be- 
fore, but now, alas! they were hushed in death! 

His prayer was answered, which he had so often put up in 
his fervent manner, "Lord, be with us in the struggles of 
death," and he was at rest. 

" Suro, the last end 
Of the good man is peace ! — how calm his exit ! 
Night dews fall not more gently on the ground, 
Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft." 



ABDOOL MUSSEEH. 335 



ABDOOL MUSSEEH. 

The subject of this sketch was a converted Hindoo. His 
mind became enlightened and his heart renewed through the 
labors of the faithful and lamented Henry Martin. He 
afterwards became a minister of the gospel, and was suc- 
cessful in bringing a number of his benighted countrymen 
into the fold of Christ. His last hours fully illustrated the 
genuineness of his piety, and offered a blessed confirmation 
of the power of the Christian religion ; proving it to be the 
same divine energy in every nation, and in every heart. 
He finished his course in great peace, at Lucknow, March 4, 
1827. The following record of his last hours is found in 
the " General Baptist Repository." (English.) 

" In the latter end of February he sent a message to the 
Resident, begging he would do him the favor to come and 
see him before his death ; with this request Mr. Ricketts 
readily complied. After making known his wishes, as to 
where he would be buried, and some other trifling requests, 
he expressed himself perfectly resigned, and that death had 
no fears for him ; for that our Saviour had deprived death 
of its sting. He thanked Mr. Ricketts for all that he had 
done for him, and looking steadily at him for some time, 
seemed to pray internally ; then saying he was easy and 
content, (or happy) begged him to leave him. He after- 
wards expressed to a friend who attended on him, his grati- 
tude for this attention on the part of Mr. Ricketts, saying, 
1 see the fruits of Christian love.' 

" The day before his death, Abdool requested a friend to 
write his will ; this was accordingly done after an English 
form. A house which the Resident, with his usual liber- 
ality, had enabled him to purchase, he left to his mother ; 



336 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

his books to the Bible Society ; and his clothes to a nephew, 
for whom he had always shown much love. This document 
he desired might be delivered into the hands of his dear 
Christian friend, Mr. Ricketts. He then declared to the 
witnesses, before his brother and relatives there present, in 
a cheerful manner, and with perfect composure of mind, 
putting his hand upon the seal, that the seal was his. He 
then said, 6 Thanks be to God, I have done with this world ; 
and with regard to my mother,' putting his hands in a sup- 
plicating posture, ' I commend her to God ! ' Then laying 
his hand upon his nephew, he said to his friend, ' speak to 
the Resident, that no one be allowed to injure him ; ' then 
desiring his friend to come near him, and putting his hands 
in an attitude of prayer, he said, ' 0, Father, Son, and 

Holy Ghost, be gracious to .' 

" On the 4th, after the doctor had visited him, he was 
told that he was advised to eat animal food. Raising his 
head from the pillow, he said, ' Brother, a man does not 
live by bread alone, but by the word of God. See for how 
many days I have eaten nothing, and am yet alive.' He 
then began to inquire after a man who had been with him 
some time for religious instruction, and being told he was 
present, desired he might be called. He questioned him on 
some points of religion, and explained the Lord's Prayer 
throughout. He spoke of his intention to baptize him, 
should he recover, and desired that in the event of his 
death, Mr. Whiting or Mr. White might be requested to do 
so. In the evening, the wife of his friend called to see 
him, and on her asking him how he was, he said, ' Very 
well, sister, thanks be to God ; ' but this, it is to be observed, 
he meant for his soul ; for his bod/ was extremely ill, and 
hickup, the usual precursor of death, had come on. He 
was told that the New Testament was at hand, and at his 



ABDOOL MUSSEEH. 337 

desire, the fourth chapter of St. John was read : at the con- 
clusion he said, ' Thanks be to God.' A favorite hymn was 
then sung. He had composed it but a short time before ; 
and the following literal translation will convey some distinct 
idea of the source from which this servant of Christ derived 
consolation in a dying hour : — 

Beloved Saviour, let not me 
In thy fond heart forgotten be. 
Of all that deck the field or bower, 
Thou art the sweetest, fairest flower. 

Youth's morn has fled, old age come on, 
But sin distracts my soul alone ; 
Beloved Saviour, let not me 
In thy fond heart forgotten be. 

" He joined in singing this hymn, and desired it might be 
sung a second time ; but, alas ! he could no longer articulate 
distinctly, and became insensible to every thing around him. 
Soon after, recovering a little, he inquired if the female 
friend above referred to, was gone ; and this was the last 
expression that could be understood. He lay seemingly 
perfectly easy till about half past eight, when he raised his 
head from the pillow, and with his left hand took hold of the 
hand of his friend, then gently withdrew it and breathed 
his last." 

" Jesus shall reign where'er the sun, 
Does his successive journeys run ; 
His kingdom spreads from shore to shore, 
'Till moons shall wax and wane no more." 



29 



338 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



CHRISTMAS EVANS* 

The subject of the following sketch was born in South 
Wales, on the 25th of December, 1T76. He was of very 
humble parentage : at nine years of age he lost his father, 
and was taken by his uncle, a wicked and dissolute farmer. 
At the age of seventeen he could not read a word, his 
parents having been unable to give him any education. His 
first religious impressions he attributes to the funeral of his 
father, but his convictions were evanescent. At the age of 
eighteen his attention was again aroused, during an awaken- 
ing among the young people of his neighborhood ; his deport- 
ment became serious, and he connected himself with the 
Arminian Presbyterians. 

His experience, however, was imperfect ; he had a con- 
viction of sin, and a desire to escape the penalty of sin, but 
had no evidence of his acceptance with God. His religious 
impressions, however, led him to secret prayer, penitential 
resolutions, and to an earnest desire to become acquainted 
with the Scriptures. Almost without assistance, in an ex- 
ceedingly short period, he became able to read his Bible. 
He was soon after called upon to exercise his gifts in public 
prayer and exhortation, and his early essays met with so 
satisfactory a reception, that he was induced to attempt 
preaching, having committed one of Rowland's sermons, 
which he delivered to the astonishment of his hearers. He 
"was soon noticed by evangelical ministers and laymen of 
different denominations, and from them obtaining clearer 
views of justification by faith, soon obtained an experimental 
knowledge of the forgiveness of sin. 

He now devoted himself to his studies, preparatory to his 

* Abridged from Memoir by Cross. 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 339 

entering upon the duties of the ministry ; and after a short 
period of backsliding, from which he was aroused by an 
accident, in which he lost the use of one eye, he was again 
renewed, and connected himself with the Baptist church. 
He was now about twenty-two years of age. With the most 
humbling views of himself, and an exceedingly low estimate 
of his qualifications for the sacred office, he commenced his 
remarkable career as an ambassador of the cross. With the 
beginning of his missionary labors in his native, but spiritu- 
ally benighted country, a new era commenced in his spiritual 
experience. 

Now he began emphatically to " live by faith on the Son 
of God." The burden which he had borne so long, rolled 
away, like that of Bunyan's Pilgrim. He received the " oil 
of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit 
of heaviness." From this time, a wondrous power attended 
his preaching. Many were gathered into the church, as the 
fruit of his labor. " I could scarcely believe," says he, " the 
testimony of the people, who came before the church as 
candidates for membership, that they had been converted 
through my ministry. Yet I was obliged to believe, though 
it was marvellous in my eyes. This made me thankful to 
God, and increased my confidence in prayer. A delightful 
gale descended upon me, as from the hill of the New Jeru- 
salem, and I felt the three great things of the kingdom of 
heaven, righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy 
Ghost." 

During the first year of his labors in Leyn, he was united 
in marriage to Miss Catherine Jones, a pious young lady of 
his own church, and a very suitable companion. After this 
time his duties were increasingly arduous. He frequently 
preached five times during the Sabbath, and walked twenty 
miles. His heart was full of love, and he spoke with the 
ardor of a seraph. Constant labor and intense excitement 
soon wore upon his health. He became feeble, and his 
friends were apprehensive of consumption. Through the 
mercy of God, however, he was spared ; gradually recovered 



340 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

his strength ; and performed, through the remainder of his 
long life, an incredible amount of ministerial labor. 

. He had been thus far engaged in North Wales, having 
been invited thither bj several ministers who had become 
acquainted with his talents. He now naturally desired to 
return to South Wales, the immediate residence of his 
friends, and, moreover, his health, impaired by over-exertion, 
demanded a change of scene and some relaxation. 

He was unable to procure a horse for the journey, and 
the small societies to which he preached, were too poor to 
provide him one. So he set forth on foot, preaching in every 
town and village through which he passed. His talents were 
now developed, and he had received " an unction from the 
Holy One." All who heard him were astonished at his 
power. His old acquaintances regarded him as a new man. 
A great awakening followed him wherever he went. Hear 
his own language : 

" I now felt a power in the word, like a hammer breaking 
the rock, and not like a rush. I had a very powerful time 
at Kilvowyr, and also pleasant meetings in the neighborhood 
of Cardigan. The work of conversion was progressing so 
rapidly, and with so much energy in those parts, that the 
ordinance of baptism was administered every month, for a 
year or more, at Kilvowyr, Cardigan, Blaenywaun, Blaenffos, 
and Ebenezer, to from ten to twenty persons each month. The 
chapels and adjoining burial-grounds were crowded with hear- 
ers, of a week-day, even in the middle of the harvest. I fre- 
quently preached in the open air in the evenings, and the 
rejoicing, singing, and praising, would continue until broad 
light the next morning. The hearers appeared melted down 
in the tenderness at the different meetings, so that they wept 
streams of tears, and cried out in such a manner that one 
might suppose the whole congregation, male and female, was 
thoroughly dissolved by the gospel. The word of God now 
became as a * sharp two-edged sword,' dividing asunder the 
joints and marrow, and revealing unto the people the secret 
corruptions of their hearts.' ' 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 341 

The fame of this " wonderful work of God " spread 
through South Wales on the wings of the wind. An appoint- 
ment for Christmas Evans to preach, was sufficient to attract 
thousands to the place. 

In a very short time he had acquired greater popularity 
than any other minister of his day. 

Of the overpowering effect of his discourses, the following 
illustrations are given by his biographer : 

In 1794, the South- West Baptist Association was held 
at Yelin Voel, in Caermarthenshire. Mr. Evans was in- 
vited, as one of the preachers, on the occasion. It was a 
journey of about two hundred miles. He undertook it on 
foot with his usual fortitude, preaching at different places as 
he went along. The meeting was to commence with three 
consecutive sermons, the last of which was to be preached 
by Mr. Evans. The service was out of doors, and the heat 
was very oppressive. The first and second sermons were 
rather tedious, and the hearers seemed almost stupified. 
Mr. Evans arose and began his sermon. Before he had 
spoken fifteen minutes, scores of people were on their feet, 
some weeping, some praising, some leaping and clapping their 
hands for joy. Nor did the effect end with the discourse. 
Throughout the evening, and during the whole night, the 
voice of rejoicing and prayer was heard in every direction ; 
and the dawning of the next day, awaking the few that had 
fallen asleep through fatigue, only renewed the heavenly 
rapture. a Job David, the Socinian," said the preacher 
afterwards to a friend, " was highly displeased with this 
American gale." But all the Socinians in Wales could not 
counteract its influence, or frustrate its happy effects. 

Mr. Evans continued to visit the associations in South 
Wales for many years ; and whenever he came, the people 
flocked by thousands to hear " the one-eyed man of An- 
glesca." It Avas on one of these occasions, and under circum- 
stances somewhat similar to the above, that he preached that 
singularly effective sermon on the demoniac of Gadara. The 
meeting had been in progress three days. Several dis- 

29* 



342 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

courses had been delivered with little or no effect. Christ- 
mas Evans took the stand, and announced as his text the 
evangelical account of the demoniac of Gadara. He described 
him as a naked man, with flaming eyes, and wild and fierce 
gesticulation ; full of relentless anger, and subject to strange 
paroxysms of rage ; the terror and pity of all the townsfolk. 
They had bound him with great chains, but he would break 
them as Samson broke the withes. They had tried to soothe 
him by kindness, but he would leap upon them like a furious 
wild beast, or burst away with the speed of a stag, his long 
hair streaming on the wind behind him. He inhabited the 
rocks of a Jewish cemetery, and when he slept, he laid down 
in a tomb. The place was a little out of town, and not far 
from the great turnpike road, so that people passing, often 
saw him, and heard his dreadful lamentations and blas- 
phemies. No body dared to cross his path unarmed, and all 
the women and children ran away as soon as they saw him 
coming. Sometimes he sallied forth from his dismal abode 
at midnight, like one risen from the dead, howling and curs- 
ing like a fiend, breaking into houses, frightening the inhab- 
itants from their beds, and driving them to seek shelter in 
the streets and the fields. He had a broken-hearted wife, 
and five little children, living about a mile and a half dis- 
tant. In his intervals of comparative calmness, he would 
set out to visit them. On his way, the evil spirit would come 
upon him, and transform the husband and father instantly 
into a fury. Then he would run toward the house, raving 
like a wounded tiger, and roaring like a lion upon his prey. 
He would spring against the door and shatter it into frag- 
ments, while the poor wife and children fled through the 
back door to the neighbors, or concealed themselves in the 
cellar. Then he would spoil the furniture, and break all 
the dishes, and bound away howling again to his home in the 
cemetery. The report of this mysterious and terrible being 
had spread through all the surrounding region, and every 
body dreaded and pitied the man among the tombs. Jesus 
came that way. The preacher described the interview, the 
miracle, the happy change in the sufferer, the transporting 
surprise of his long afflicted family. Then, shifting the 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 343 

scene, he showed his hearers the catastrophe of the swine, 
the flight of the affrighted herdsman, his amusing report to 
his master, and the effect of the whole upon the populace. 
All this was done with such dramatic effect as to convulse 
his numerous hearers with alternate laughter and weeping 
for more than half an hour. Having thus elicited an in- 
tense interest in the subject, he proceeded to educe from the 
narrative several important doctrines, which he illustrated so 
forcibly, and urged so powerfully, that the people first be- 
came profoundly serious, then wept like mourners at a 
funeral, and finally threw themselves on the ground, and 
broke forth in loud prayers for mercy ; and the preacher 
continued nearly three hours, the effect increasing till he 
closed. One, who heard that wonderful sermon, says that 
during the first half hour, the people seemed like an assem- 
bly in a theatre, delighted with an amusing play ; after that, 
like a community in mourning over some great and good 
man, cut off by a sudden calamity ; and at last, like the in- 
habitants of a city shaken by an earthquake, rushing into 
the streets, falling upon the earth, and screaming and call- 
ing upon God ! 

At the age of forty, almost blind, he commenced the study 
of the Greek and Hebrew languages, in which he made great 
proficiency ; he also acquired an ease and fluency of expres- 
sion in the English tongue, enabling him to preach with great 
acceptance in the principal cities of England. At the ad- 
vanced age of sixty-five, much debilitated, and nearly sight- 
less, he wrote about two hundred sermons for the press, many 
of which have since been published, and are marked with 
all the vigor and vivacity of his youth. 

His personal appearance and Christian character are thus 
described in his memoir : 

Mr. Evans was a good looking man, nearly six feet high, 
and well proportioned. His intellectual faculties were amply 
developed. He had lost one of his eyes in his youth, but 



344 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the other was large and bright enough for two. It had a 
peculiarly penetrating glance ; and when kindling under the 
inspiration of the pulpit, added wonderfully to the effect of 
his eloquence. All his features were expressive of intelli- 
gence and love ; his whole bearing dignified and majestic ; 
and the blending of great and amiable qualities in his char- 
acter commanded at once the reverence and the confidence 
of all who knew him. ***** 

Mr. E. was eminently a man of prayer. Prayer was his 
daily bread, the very breath of his spirit. He considered 
himself entitled, through Christ, to all the blessings of the 
gospel, and came boldly to the throne of grace in every time 
of need. During his whole ministerial life, much of his time 
was spent in the closet. It was his custom, for many years, 
to retire for devotion three times during the day, and rise 
regularly for the same purpose at midnight. The disorders 
of the church, the slanders of his enemies, and the various 
afflictions of life, all drove him to the mercy seat, and made 
him peculiarly earnest and importunate in supplication. After 
these seasons of agony, he came into the church, or the social 
circle, as an angel from the presence of God, and all his 
garments smelt of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, from the 
ivory palaces. 

He never undertook a new enterprise, without first asking 
counsel of the Lord. When he had a call to another field 
of labor, he could not decide upon the matter till he had 
spread it repeatedly before the throne. When he was about 
to preach at an association, or on any important occasion, he 
wrestled for hours with the angel of the covenant, nor relin- 
quished his hold till he felt himself " endowed with power 
from on high." Then he came forth to the congregation, as 
Moses from the Tabernacle, when he had communed with 
God. Just before leaving home on his tour of collection for 
the Caernarvon church, the last labor of his fife, he penned 
in his book of appointments the following paragraph : 

" Lord, grant me my desire on this journey, for thy 
name's sake. My first petition: — Comfort in Christ — the 
comfort of love — the bowels of love and mercy in the de- 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 345 

nomination — the fellowship of the Spirit. Amen. My sec- 
ond petition : — That the sermons I have prepared for this 
journey, may increase in their ministration, like the five 
loaves and two fishes. Amen. C. E." 

Mr. Evans was a poor man, but "rich in good works." 
Suffering poverty always excited his pity, and opened his 
purse. * * Sometimes his liberality was larger than his 
purse. Once, when a Protestant Irishman, poorly clad, told 
him that he had spent much time in reading the Scriptures 
to his illiterate countrymen, he pulled off his coat, and gave 
it to him. At another time, he presented a poor Jew, who 
had recently been converted to Christianity, a new suit of 
clothes, the best he had in his wardrobe. While in Anglesea, 
he visited a brother in the church, who had been reduced by 
protracted illness to a condition of great distress ; and find- 
ing the family almost in a state of starvation, emptied his 
pocket of the only pound he had. His wife remonstrated 
with him, told him she had not bread enough in the house to 
last twenty-four hours, and demanded what she would do, 
now he had given away all his money. His only answer 
was : " Jehovah-jireh ; the Lord will provide ! " The next 
day he received a letter from England, enclosing two pounds 
as a present. As soon as he had read it, he called out to 
his wife : " Catharine ! I told thee that Providence would 
return the alms-pound, for it was a loan to the Lord ; and 
see, here it is doubled in one day ! " It is evident, from this 
incident, that Mr. Evans's liberality was the fruit of his faith 
in God ; and the good man's confidence is never put to 
shame. " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth." 

We have only space sufficient to give a short selection 
from one of those sermons, which, in their delivery, so mar- 
vellously affected the multitude : 

The victory of Calvary is like the blood of atonement in 
the sanctuary. The cherubim were some of them looking 
one way, and some the other, but all were looking on the 
atoning blood. Thus all the events of time — all the trials 



846 TUB EMINENT DEAD. 

and triumphs of God's people — those which happened before, 
those which have happened since, and those which are yet 
to happen, are all looking toward the wrestling of Geth- 
semene, the conflict of Golgotha, and the triumph of Olivet. 
The escape from Egypt, and the return from Babylon, looked 
forward to the Cross of Christ; and the faith of the perfect 
man of Uz hung on a risen Redeemer. The Christian mar- 
tyrs overcame by the blood of the Lamb. And all their 
victories were in virtue of one great achievement. The 
tomb of Jesus is the birth-place of his people's immortality, 
and the power which raised him from the dead shall open 
the sepulchres of all his Saints. "Thy dead shall live; 
together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and 
sing, ye that dwell in the dust ; for thy dew is as the dew of 
herbs, and the earth shall cast forth her dead." 

Christ offered himself a sacrifice for us, and drank the 
cup of God's righteous indignation in our stead. He w T as 
trodden by Almighty justice, as a cluster of grapes, in the 
wine-press of the law, till the vessels of mercy overflowed 
with the wine of peace and pardon, w r hich has made thou- 
sands of contrite and humble spirits " rejoice with joy unut- 
terable and full of glory." He suffered for us that we might 
triumph with him. But our text (Isaiah lxiii. 1, 6,) de- 
scribes him as a King and a Conquerer. He was at once 
the dying victim and the immortal victor. In the " power 
of an endless life," he was standing by the altar, when the 
sacrifice was burning. He was alive in his sacerdotal vest- 
ments, with his golden censer in his hand. He was alive in 
his Kingly glory, with his sword and his sceptre in his hand. 
He was alive in his conquering prowess, and had made an 
end of sin, and bruised the head of the serpent, and spoiled 
the principalities and powers of hell, and turned the van- 
quished hosts of the prince of darkness down to the wine- 
press of the wrath of Almighty God. Then, on the morning 
of the third day, when he arose from the dead, and made a 
show of them openly, then began the year of jubilee with 
power. 

After the prophets of ancient times had long gazed through 
the mists of futurity, at the sufferings of Christ and the glory 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 347 

that should follow, a company of them were gathered to- 
gether on the summit of Calvary. They saw a host of ene- 
mies ascending the hill, arrayed for battle, and most terrific 
in their aspect. In the middle of the line was the law of 
God, fiery and exceeding broad, and working wrath. On 
the right wing was Beelzebub, with his troop of infernals ; 
and on the left, Caiaphas, with his Jewish priests, and Pilate, 
with his Roman soldiers. The rear was brought up by 
Death, the last enemy. When the holy seers had espied this 
army, and perceived that it was drawing nigh, they started 
back and prepared for flight. As they looked round, they 
saw the son of God advancing with intrepid step, having his 
face fixed on the hostile band. " Seest thou the danger that 
is before thee?" said one of the men of God. "I will 
tread them in mine anger," he replied, " and trample 
them in my fury." "Who art thou?" said the prophet. 
He answered : " I that speak in righteousness ; mighty to 
save." "Wilt thou venture to the battle alone ? " asked 
the seer. The Son of God replied: "I looked, and there 
was none to help ; and I wondered there was none to uphold ; 
therefore mine own arm shall bring salvation unto me ; and 
my fury, it shall uphold me." "At what point wilt thou 
commence thy attack ? " inquired the anxious prophet. "I 
will first meet the law," he replied, "and pass under its 
curse : for lo, I come to do thy will, God. When I shall 
have succeeded at the centre of the line, the colors will turn 
in my favor." So saying, he moved forward. Instantly the 
thunderings of Sinai were heard, and the whole band of 
prophets quaked with terror. But he advanced, undaunted, 
amidst the gleaming lightnings. For a moment he was con- 
cealed from view ; and the banner of wrath waved above in 
triumph. Suddenly the scene was changed. A stream of 
blood poured forth from his wounded side, and put out all 
the fires of Sinai. The flag of peace was now seen unfurled, 
and consternation filled the ranks of his foes. He then 
crushed, with his bruised heel, the old serpent's head ; and 
put all the infernal powers to flight. With his iron rod he 
dashed in pieces the enemies of the left wing, like a potter's 
vessel. Death still remained, who thought himself invinci- 



348 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

ble, having hitherto triumphed over all. He came forward, 
brandishing his sting, which he had whetted on Sinai's tables 
of stone. He darted it at the Conqueror, but it turned 
down, and hung like the flexible lash of a whip. Dismayed, 
he retreated to the grave, his palace, into which the Con- 
queror pursued. In a dark corner of his den, ho sat on his 
throne of mouldering skulls, and called upon the worms, his 
hitherto faithful allies, to aid him in the conflict ; but they 
replied: " His flesh shall see no corruption ! " The sceptre 
fell from his hand. The Conqueror seized him, bound him, 
and condemned him to the lake of fire ; and then rose from the 
grave, followed by a band of released captives, who came 
forth after his resurrection, to be witnesses of the victory 
which he had won. 

At the advanced age of seventy- three, though in great 
bodily weakness, he was still preaching with undiminished 
mental and spiritual vigor. His last labors were in behalf 
of his church, taking an extensive tour for the purpose of 
collecting funds to relieve it from debt. 

During this tour, he attended the Monmouthshire Asso- 
ciation, and preached his last associational sermon. In his 
introduction, he described a man whom he had seen at Caer- 
narvon, throwing a few beans to a herd of swine that followed 
him, and thus enticing them to the door of the slaughter- 
house, where they were to be slain ; and said that in a simi- 
lar manner, with one temptation after another, Satan allures 
deluded sinners to the very gates of hell, where they are to 
be tormented for ever and ever. He spoke of the gospel on 
the day of Pentecost, as a great electrical machine ; Christ 
turning the handle ; Peter placing the chain in contact with 
the people ; and the Holy Ghost descending like a stream of 
ethereal fire, and melting the hearts of three thousand at 
once ! 

Perhaps no sermon that Mr. Evans ever preached, evinced 
more vigor of intellect, more power and splendor of genius, 



CHRISTMAS EVANS. 349 

than this ; and seldom, if ever, had he a more perfect com- 
mand over the feelings of an audience. But the effort was 
too much for him, and he was afterwards confined to his room 
by illness for a week. 
' Following this indefatigable man of God, we find him on 
Sunday, the fifteenth of July, notwithstanding his late ill- 
ness, at Swansea, preaching like a seraph, on the Prodigal 
Son in the morning, and in the evening on the words of St. 
Paul — " I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ." 

The next evening he preached in the church of Mount 
Pleasant. He said he had taken his model from the day of 
Pentecost. He described the event of that memorable day, 
as a great naval battle between Emanuel and the Prince of 
Darkness. " The Captain of our Salvation" sent out twelve 
little boats to engage the whole fleet of hell. For a time all 
was enveloped in fire and smoke, and the issue of the day 
seemed doubtful ; but when the conflict ceased, and the cloud 
cleared away, it was ascertained that the twelve little boats 
had captured three thousand of Satan's ships of war. 

When the preacher sat down, he said, " This is my last 
sermon." And so it was. That night he was taken vio- 
lently ill. The next day he lay in a partial stupor, taking 
but little notice of his friends. The third day he seemed 
somewhat better. On the morning of the fourth day, Thurs- 
day, he arose and walked in the garden. Toward evening 
he sunk again, and grew worse during the night. At two 
o'clock on Friday morning, he said to his friends : " I am 
about to leave you ; I have labored in the Sanctuary about 
fifty-three years ; and this is my comfort and confidence, 
that I have never labored without blood in the basin," — 
meaning, evidently, that he had not failed to preach " Jesus 
Christ and him crucified." 

After a few more remarks, of a similar character, he re- 
peated a Welsh stanza, expressive of his firm trust in the 
Redeemer ; and then, as if he had done with earth, and de- 
sired to depart, exclaimed, in English, " Grood bye ! Drive 
on!" He now turned over, and seemed to sleep. His 
friends tried to rouse him. It was too late. The angelic 
30 



350 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

postillion had obeyed the order. The chariot had passed 
9ver the everlasting hills. 

" Unto the righteous will arrive, 
A day of rest serene, 
When to their joy they see the Lord, 
Without a veil between. 

Then from the grave I shall arise, 

And take my joyful stand 
Among the saints who dwell on high, 

Received at God's right hand." 



RICHARD WATSON.* 

The following account of Mr. Watson's last days has been 
compiled from the statements furnished by those who visited 
him during his illness, and especially by members of his own 
family, who attended him night and day. 

The last month of his life was marked by uncommon calm- 
ness of spirit. From the time when he gave up all expec- 
tation of recovery, he manifested, both in his spirit and 
language, the most perfect resignation to the divine will. 
His was not a sullen and compulsory submission to an una- 
voidable fate, but a deliberate exercise of Christian faith and 
patience. He resigned his body to the tomb, — his soul to 
God ; and in death only made that sacrifice complete, in the 
spirit of which he had previously lived. 

He remarked on several occasions, " I could have wished 
to live a few years longer, to finish some works and 

* From Life by Wickens — Book Room Ed. 



RICHARD WATSON. 351 

designs of usefulness which I contemplated ; but the Lord 
can do without any of us;" adding, " I have often admired 
the perfect resignation of David, when he said to Zadok, 
' Carry back the ark of God into the city ; if I shall find 
favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and 
show me both it and his habitation : but if he thus say, I 
have no delight in thee, behold, here am I, let him do to 
me as seemeth good to him.' So I say, If the Lord has no 
delight in me, here I am, let him do to me what seemeth 
good to him." His constant language was, " I have no wish 
either to live or die, but that the will of God maybe done;" 
and on one occasion, when a member of his family expressed 
a hope of his recovery, he replied, with great sweetness, 
" It is the anxiety of affection, without any basis of reason 
to rest upon." 

" It was my father's constant practice," observes Mrs. 
Dixon,* " when he and my mother were prevented by sick- 
ness from attending public worship on the Sabbath, to read 
with her in the forenoon the whole of the Church service, 
including the psalms, the epistle, and the collect for the day. 
My mother read the litany, while my father, devoutly kneel- 
ing, responded with the deepest and most fervent devotion. 
In the evening he selected a sermon, (generally one of Mr. 
Wesley's) to be read to him ; and then, with peculiar feel- 
ing and solemnity, repeated one of our hymns, and conclu- 
ded with prayer. 

" On Sunday, December 16th, a day never to be forgotten, 
he went through the liturgical service in the forenoon, as 
above described. In the afternoon he exclaimed, 'Another 
silent Sabbath ! This is the sixth Sunday that I have been 
prevented by illness from lifting up my voice in the sanc- 

* Mr. Watson's daughter married the Rev. James Dixon, now (1841) presi- 
dent of the Wesleyan conference. 



352 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

tuary ! ' Then handing me the hymn-book, he said, ' Read 
me some of these blessed hymns : I find them very refresh- 
ing.' He then selected the following : 

' O God. of good, the unfathom'd sea ; ' 
' Great God, indulge my humble claim ; ' 
1 With glory clad, with strength array'd ; ' 
' The earth and all her fullness owns ; ' 
4 Sun of righteousness, arise ; ' 
' Join all the glorious names.' 

In the evening, I read, at his request, Mr. Wesley's sermon 
on 'The Way to the Kingdom.' As I proceeded, he ex- 
claimed, ' How strong ; yet how admirably simple ! How 
beautifully clear and perspicuous ! How forcible and con- 
vincing ! No man ever saw the " way to the Kingdom" more 
clearly than Wesley, and no man ever made that way so 
plain to others. The more I study his writings the more I 
admire them.' After reading a hymn, he prayed for nearly 
an hour, with astonishing and overwhelming power and 
energy, remembering not only his family individually, and 
pleading, nay, wrestling powerfully with God on their behalf, 
but also the church in general, and especially our depart- 
ment of it, with an intensity of feeling and earnestness of 
supplication remarkably impressive and affecting." 

On Tuesday, December 18th, he was visited by Mrs. 
Bulmer, the gifted authoress of " Messiah's Kingdom," who 
says, "He looked much emaciated, but he was cheerful as 
usual, and the frame of his mind deeply spiritual and heav- 
enly. He spoke with great calmness of the probable issue 
of his affliction; and added, C I have not now to learn, for 
the first time, that all is right and best, and as it should be, 
under the divine disposal, — whether restoration to health 
shall be vouchsafed to me, for further usefulness, or whether 
the continuance of severe pain shall shortly terminate my 



RICHARD WATSON. 353 

suffering by death.' He then discoursed delightfully on the 
subject of a special providence, and on the many opportuni- 
ties he had enjoyed of testing the truth of that doctrine in 
his personal experience. ' God,' said he, ' in the wise econ- 
omy of his government, has provided for the answer of 
prayer.' He instanced such answers given to himself, espe- 
cially as connected with his ministerial labors, when strength 
and refreshment had been remarkably vouchsafed to him in 
the hour of need, appealing, at the same time, to Mrs. Wat- 
son for the confirmation of his statements on this interesting 
point." 

" During his illness," says Mrs. Dixon, " my father fre- 
quently repeated the following striking saying of Hooker : 
1 Since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and 
then take thine own time ; I submit to it. Let not mine, 
Lord, but let thy will be done ! ' When in great pain he 
would often quote this passage from Jeremiah, ' If thou hast 
run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how 
canst thou contend with horses ; and if in the land of peace 
wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, then how wilt 
thou do in the swelling of Jordan?' " 

While in health, he was never remarkably communicative 
on the subject of personal religion ; but he now became as 
simple and open as a child : nor had he been accustomed to 
give vent to his feelings by tears, — generally endeavoring 
to repress his emotions ; but he now yielded fully to the 
feelings of his heart, and when conversing on religious sub- 
jects, tears of deep humiliation, intermingled with sacred 
joy, often flowed in copious streams from his eyes. 

For some weeks Mr. Watson suffered greatly from period- 
ical attacks of pain, to which he was subject during the 
latter stage of his complaint ; and one of these paroxysms 
30* 



354 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

was so severe and protracted, that it was feared his feeble 
frame would scarcely be able to endure another such attack. 
" On Sunday, December 23d," says Mrs. Dixon, " my 
dear father was free from acute pain, but in a state of great 
exhaustion, from previous suffering. He seemed to be fully 
aware of his danger ; but his mind was perfectly tranquil. 
Observing me weeping bitterly, he said, ' Compose yourself, 
my dear ; keep your mind calm : commit the matter to Him 
who knows, not only what is right, but what is best. My 
flesh and my heart fail, but God is my rock. I know that 
my Redeemer liveth ; and that when he shall appear, I 
shall appear with him. Yes; I shall see him as he is.' On 
my expressing a hope that the disorder had passed its crisis, 
and that he would from that time begin to recover, he said, 
' Your affection makes you sanguine ; but I wish neither to 
hope nor to fear, since He in whose hands I am, knows best 
when to call his people to himself.' In the evening of the 
same day, he requested me to read from the supplement a 
few of the hymns on the nativity, remarking that many of 
them were exceedingly striking and beautiful. While I was 
reading, he responded to the sentiments contained in them 
with great fervor, and dwelt much on the majesty of the 
mercy of God in devising so magnificent and glorious a 
scheme of salvation. I then read those beautiful transla- 
tions from the German, commencing, 

' Commit thou all thy griefs,' 

and 

1 Give to the winds thy fears ;' 

which he said comforted him greatly." 

Having felt several unfavorable symptoms, he had re- 
marked during the day, that he feared he might have a 
relapse. His apprehensions were realized. He passed the 
night in violent pain, and continued in great agony until 



RICHARD WATSON. 355 

Monday evening, when he experienced some relief. To 
Mr. Beecham, who called on him in the course of the day, 
he said, " All prospect of my recovery is gone. This return 
of pain, proves that the cause of my affliction remains. I 
have no hope now. There is no rational ground of hope 
left. Nothing now remains for me but to address myself to 
the great work of preparing to suffer and die." 

On the following day he was sufficiently free from pain to 
converse without difficulty. Early in the morning he sent 
for his daughter ; and when she entered the room he smiled 
sweetly, and said, " My dear, this is Christmas-day. This 
is the blessed morning on which Christ broke upon this dark, 
dreary world, when 

' Plunged in a gulf of dark despair, 
We wretched sinners lay, 
Without one cheering beam of hope, 
Or spark of glimmering day.' 

0, what a blessed Saviour ! And here he is, ever at hand, 
to sustain and comfort helpless man, and gild the dark and 
gloomy hours of pain and languor, with bright hopes of 
immortal felicity." 

He was visited on the morning of this day by Mr. 
Beecham, who says, " I was no sooner seated by him than 
he began : ' Well, you see we are at length thrown back on 
those great principles which we preach, " Life is yours ; " 
" death is yours ; " " things present ; " " things to come ; " 
" all things work together for good to them that love God." 
Now, here are two points : first, Are these things so ? and, 
have you an interest in them ? ' Having paused, as if in 
solemn consideration of these questions, he then said, with 
strong feeling, ' Yes, these things are so ; these principles 
are true ; and, blessed be God, I have an interest in them; 
but it is all through the blessed Spirit.' On my remarking, 



356 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

that it was a glorious reward for the faithful minister of 
Jesus Christ, in the season of deep affliction and suffering, 
to prove, as he did, the reality and consoling power of the 
great truths he had spent his life in maintaining and enforc- 
ing, he replied, with emphasis, ' Yes, a minister has higher 
enjoyments and privileges than Christians in general ; but he 
is exposed to greater temptation. His is an awful responsi- 
bility ; and greater is the guilt of any unfaithfulness in him. 
I feel these things to be so.' He then dwelt on his own 
un worthiness, and the abasing sense he felt of the worth- 
lessness of his very best performances, and said his only 
hope, his only refuge, was in the pure atonement of Christ. 
He proceeded to enlarge on the sufficiency of that atone- 
ment ; and showed what an infinite mercy it is that we have 
such a resource, and that we know what use to make of it. 
Then placing his attenuated hands together, and looking up 
to heaven, with his eyes partly closed, while his quivering 
lip marked the deep feeling of his soul, he quoted the 
following lines : — 

' His offering pure we call to mind, 

There on the golden altar laid, 
Whose Godhead with the manhood join'd, 

For every soul atonement made ; 
And have whate'er we ask of God, 
Through faith in that all-saving blood.' 

Then pausing, and looking for a few moments unutterable 
things, he added, with uncommon pathos, — 

1 1 the chief of sinners am ; 
But Jesus died for me.' 

" It was the following morning, if I remember right, that 
he formally gave up all public business. He had told me, 
some days before, that he wanted to talk with me on a few 
points, as soon as he was able ; and being comparatively 



RICHARD WATSON. 357 

easy that day wnen I called on him, he laid on the tahle a 
small portfolio, in which he kept papers relating to the mis- 
sions ; and opening it, showed me what he had been writing 
in reference to matters which he had previously deliberated 
on ; telling me I must now take Up those subjects where he 
had broken off, and must finish them. After further con- 
versation, on my preparing to leave him, I gathered up only 
the papers we had been examining ; when, taking them out 
of my hand, he placed them with the others in the portfolio ; 
and folding it up, said, ' Here, take all together. If I get 
better, you know, I can take it back again ; and if not, I 
must leave you, and you must leave me.' 

"Ona subsequent day, as I sat alone with him, he told 
me that his arrangements for death were now nearly com- 
pleted ; and talked with me about destroying his useless 
papers, and respecting the manuscripts he should leave 
behind, and on his private affairs in general, with a calm- 
ness and composure which almost made me forget that I was 
conversing with one who regarded himself as a dying man. 
And this cool fortitude was not an occasional effort of the 
mind. In this respect I invariably found him the same. 
His dying was his common topic ; and he would dwell on it 
with a composedness which strikingly indicated that all was 
right within. And it is worthy of remark, that no favorable 
change which his case might occasionally present, ever di- 
verted him, as far as my observation went, from the great 
work of preparing for death. For a week before he evidently 
changed for death, the worst symptoms of his case so far 
abated as to awaken some hopes again respecting him ; and 
he said to me one day, c I may, it is possible I may, rally 
so far as to be able to advise with you again. But,' added 
he, looking up, while the tears glistened in his eyes, ' if not, 
blessed be thy name, I am resigned to thy will.' 



358 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

"On my incidentally mentioning to him that his friends 
at a certain place had agreed to have a meeting for prayer 
in his behalf, he leaned forward, and covering his face with 
his hand, he wept and said, ' What am I, that I should have 
an interest in the prayers of so many good people ! ' He 
repeatedly observed to me, during the latter part of his 
illness, that were he to' be raised again, he believed it would 
be chiefly in answer to prayer ; and to this cause he said he 
must greatly attribute it, that his sufferings were so much 
mitigated, and that such a worm as he should enjoy so much 
of the divine presence and goodness in his affliction." 

The following incident, related by Mrs. Dixon, shows the 
perfect composure with which he contemplated his approach- 
ing dissolution : — " One night, on my offering to wind up 
his watch, he handed it to me, saying, with great emphasis, 
6 Here, take it, and wind it up for me a few times more. I 
shall soon be 

" Where day and night divide His works no more." ' 

Then, clasping his hands, he exclaimed, ' Eternity ! eter- 
nity ! ' and sinking back in his chair, seemed to be absorbed 
in the contemplations which that momentous word had sug- 
gested ; while his brightening features, becoming impressed 
with the vastness of his conceptions, assumed an almost 
supernatural expression. I felt awed, as in the presence of 
one already beginning to realize the mysteries of the eternal 
and invisible state ; and scarcely dared to move or breathe, 
lest I should interrupt his heavenly musings, or bring down 
his soul from those ' celestial heights.' " 

On the 27th of December, Mrs. Buhner visited, Mr. Wat- 
son for the last time. She says, " Never shall I forget the 
expression of his countenance, when I first met the glance 
of his languid and almost tearful eye. It was a look of inef- 



EICHAED WATSON. 359 

fable kindness and affection ; and seemed as if it could be 
second only to that with which I trust we shall again regard 
each other in a sinless and unsuffering world. It dissolved 
my soul in grief. I felt assured that his stay among us 
could not be long, and the idea of his removal inflicted a 
poignant pang. His frame bore the impress of the agony 
he had endured. But his spirit seemed pavilioned in the 
very divine presence. He said he 'felt the sustaining 
power of God,' and discoursed for a short time, and with 
frequent intermissions, through great debility, on that most 
delightful topic, peculiarly suggested by the season, ' They 
shall call his name Emanuel, God with us.' * Yes,' said 
he, ' God with us, — with us all, — with each of us, — with 
us at all times, — under all circumstances ; especially with 
us in deep sympathy with all our sorrows, dangers and suf- 
ferings. ' He was evidently giving utterance to sentiments, 
the truth of which he was then powerfully realizing in his 
own experience. Faith triumphed over dissolving nature, 
and the Rock of ages he felt to be the strength of his failing 
heart ; — our parting is indelibly written on mine. With a 
voice faltering through irrepressible emotion, he expressed a 
hope that our next meeting might be under more favorable 
circumstances, and added, ' If not, — if not, — may we 
have a happier meeting in heaven ! ' " 

Speaking of his call to the ministry, to a kind neighbor 
who often visited him in his illness, he said, "My dear 
friend, God called me very early to the work of the min- 
istry. I began to preach before I was fifteen years of age. 
I never had any doubt but that I was called of God. I 
always delighted in my work ; and I can truly say, in refer- 
ence to the missions, and in some secular affairs necessarily 
connected with the ministerial office, I have acted as I 
thought for the best ; but, my dear friend, we are all liable 



360 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

to err ; and I doubt not that my motives have been fre- 
quently misunderstood. All secular affairs have a dead- 
ening tendency ; constantly paining one's mind, and doing 
us injury." 

At another time, in conversation with the same person, he 
said, " what a state will that be, when I, I shall be sing- 
ing hallelujahs to God and the Lamb ! when I shall be able 
to love him and serve him, without the possibility of sinning 
against him ! " — laying great stress on I. " Oh," he con- 
tinued, " it is sin that keeps us at such a distance from 
God I What a wonderful scheme is that of redemption by 
Christ ! What a glorious state, when mind shall expand to 
take in the heights, and breadths, and depths of love divine ! 
to be able to enter largely into the mysterious wonders of 
Providence, without this clog of corruption. I shall see 
God ; I, I, individually, I myself, a poor worm of the earth, 
shall see God ! How shall I sufficiently praise him ! " 

Making inquiries concerning a person who was immersed 
in the world, and absorbed in its pursuits, he exclaimed, 
" What a pity ! living for this world only ! Poor man ! 
how I pity him ! The world can give no solid satisfaction ; 
and then to have no hope of heaven ; no satisfactory resting 
place, or place of enjoyment suited to its capacities, for the 
immortal spirit ! How dreadful ! how thankful ought 
we to be for better hopes, and brighter prospects! " 

To a friend who visited him on Saturday, December 29th, 
he said, " I am very ill ; but I am where we have so often 
placed others, — in the hands of the Lord : he has imparted 
sweet consolation to me during my affliction. We have not 
preached cunningly devised fables. no ! There is real, 
solid, substantial comfort and support in religion. I have 
been many times heavily afflicted, and have been often 
brought, so to speak, into the waters ; but I have always 



RICHARD WATSON. 361 

found the rock firm beneath. I have never been so power- 
fully impressed with a sense of my own worthlessness, as 
during this illness ; and, in the prospect of approaching the 
majesty of God, my feeling is that of a worm crawling into 
the brightness of the sun. I feel as if about to take my 
place near some glorious throne ; but I wish to creep low, 
and feel my own nothingness." 

His favorite expression, when speaking of his state, was to 
call himself a worm. One night, moved by a sudden im- 
pulse, as he lay in bed, he exclaimed, with tears flowing 
down his languid countenance, "I am a worm, a poor vile 
worm, not worthy to lift up its head. But then," he added, 
" the worm is permitted to crawl out of the earth into the 
garden of the Lord, and there, among the flowers and fruits, 
to speculate, if it can, on the palace and ivory throne of 
Solomon. 

' I shall behold his face, 

I shall his power adore, 

And sing the wonders of his grace 

For evermore.' " 

It was remarked, " No doubt, you will see his face." 
" Yes," he rejoined, " there is doubt of every thing but 
the great, deep, infinite mercy of God, — that is sure." 

The morning of Sunday, December 30 th, the last Sabbath 
of his life but one, and the very last on which he could sit 
up and converse, was a precious season to him. " As I sat 
alone with him," says Mr. Beecham, " I made an observa- 
vation respecting the Sabbath, on which he exclaimed, 
' Blessed day of rest ! ' and then dwelt on the hallowed 
enjoyments of the Sabbath, and its rich provision for the 
spiritual wants of man. After we had spent some time in 
prayer, during which the divine goodness appeared to over- 
31 



362 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

shadow us in an indescribable manner, I, on parting, said to 
him, i May the Lord of the Sabbath be with you ! ' — to 
which he responded with deep fervor, i Amen, Amen ! ' He 
had a high sense of the importance of the Sabbatic institu- 
tion, for advancing the cause of religion ; and has more than 
once said to me, with great feeling, when I have called upon 
him on the Lord's day, and found him unable to stir out, 
i Another blessed Sabbath must, in regard of public worship, 
be a blank to me.' " 

" On this day," observes Mrs. Dixon, " my beloved 
father became much worse, and seemed fully conscious that 
his end was not far distant. While I was supporting his 
head, he looked at me for some moments, with intense affec- 
tion, and said, in a very solemn and emphatic tone, ' May 
the blessings of the upper and the nether springs be yours 
for ever ! ' This was his parting benediction ; and from that 
time he said but little connectedly." 

" On the last day upon which he was able to discourse at 
length," says Mr. Beecham, " I sat with him a consider- 
able time, and had full proof that he remained in the same 
elevated and heavenly frame of mind which he had mani- 
fested throughout his affliction. Such dignity, united with 
such deep humility ; such intellectual strength and vigor, 
attended with so much child-like simplicity ; such patience 
under such intense suffering ; and in the intervals of pain, 
such indications of ineffable intercourse with God, and such 
outbeamings of hallowed joy, — have been but rarely wit- 
nessed, I conceive, in any dying saint." 

A few days before his death, having remained a long time 
in a state of lethargy, an organ struck up a sweet and plain- 
tive psalm tune under the window. This roused him ; and 
opening his eyes, he feebly said, " how sweet !• All ought 



RICHARD WATSON. 363 

to be harmony on earth ; every thing should praise the 
Lord : it would be so were it not for sin ; and in heaven this 
will be the case, where sin has no existence." 

At one time, being in great pain, he exclaimed, " how 
much labor and pain it costs to unroof this house ; to take 
down this tabernacle and tent, and to set the spirit free ! 
And when shall my soul leave this tenement of clay ! I 
long to quit this little abode, gain the wide expanse of the 
skies, rise to nobler joys, and see God." He then repeated 
his favorite stanza : — 



" I shall behold his face, 

I shall his power adore, 

And sing the wonders of his grace 

For evermore." 



In a state of high ecstacy, he burst forth but a short time 
before he was deprived of the power of connected speech, 
exclaiming, " We shall see strange sights some day ; not 
different, however, from what we might realize by faith. 
But it is not this, not the glitter and glory, not the diamond 
and topaz, no, it is God ; he is all and in all ! " 

During three or four of the last days of his life, Mr. Wat- 
son sunk into a state of lethargy, appearing almost insensible 
to those around him, and was nearly incapable of the use of 
speech. No conversation could be held with him on any 
subject ; but at intervals he seemed to be engaged in devo- 
tional exercises. His fears of agony and struggle in his last 
moments were not realized. His prayers, and those of 
thousands in his behalf, were in this respect mercifully an- 
swered. When, after many hours of difficult respiration, 
the moment of his dissolution approached, his sanctified and 
happy spirit, without any apparent pain or convulsive strug- 



364 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

gle, left its tabernacle of clay, and entered the world of rest 
and love. 

" A glorious voice hath ceased ! The funeral chant 
Breathe reverently. Let it be wild and sad, — 
A more ^olian, melancholy tone 
Than ever wail'd o'er bright things perishing: — 
For that is passing from the darken'd land 
Which the green summer will not bring us back. 
Though all its leaves return." 



JEREMIAH EVAKTS* 

The subject of the following sketch was born in February, 
1781, in Sunderland, Vermont. His early youth was 
marked by industry and a love of books ; at the age of 
three years, one of his characteristic employments was the 
teaching of a little playmate of his own age, the alphabet. 
During his youth, his advantages were limited for the acquir- 
ing of an education, his time being almost entirely employed 
with his father, (a pioneer farmer on the shores of Lake 
Champlain) in clearing up new lands for their farm ; but he 
made the most diligent use of all his otherwise unemployed 
moments, and of the few books forming the family library. 
At the age of 17, as his delicate frame and extraordinary 
desire for knowledge seemed to demand a less arduous posi- 
tion, and a more favorable opportunity for study, he left 
home for East Guilford, Connecticut, the former residence 
of his parents, and placed himself under the tuition of Rev. 
John Elliot, D. D. In less than a year after this time, 
such was his application, that, with a superior preparation, 
he was admitted into the freshman class of Yale College. 

* Compiled from his biography. 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 365 

Until his senior year in college, Mr. Evarts was experimen- 
tally unacquainted with religion, although his early training 
had confirmed him in habits of the strictest morality and 
integrity. The progressive steps by which this most impor- 
tant acquisition was obtained, are thus recorded by his 
biographer : 

Through the whole period of his youth, he had been atten- 
tive to the claims of Divine truth, and of unblemished morals. 
In the house of God he was a careful and studious hearer. 
From the time of his arrival at Guilford, the subjects of all 
the sermons that he heard, were noticed in his Diary, some- 
times with brief outlines, and at others with a remark or two 
of his own. After he entered college and became a hearer 
of Dr. Dwight, these notes became gradually more oopious, 
those of a single sermon sometimes occupying many pages. 
His respect for the Bible and the Sabbath were unusual ; 
and at the daily religious exercises in the college chapel, his 
air and manner were devotional. The Scriptures read, and 
the remarks made by the President at these services, were 
frequently noticed in his Diary. He has been heard to say, 
that it was a matter of inquiry with him then, whether he 
did not possess a truly religious character. But he had not 
yet learned the plague of his own heart, and afterwards felt 
the need of a state of soul far different from any thing that 
he had yet experienced. Among his papers is a prayer, 
dated February 26th, 1798 ; a few months before he entered 
college. The next year he became a regular attendant at 
the meetings for prayer, held weekly by the few pious stu- 
dents then in college, and read with great interest such 
missionary intelligence as came within his reach. Occasional 
passages from his journal show that religion was a subject of 
frequent and serious thought : 

1800, August 24th. — Sunday. The President preached 
in the morning, from Titus ii. 6. At the close of the sermon, 
he recommended to us, to shut ourselves up after divine ser- 
vice in the afternoon, and look into our prospect for the 
world to come. In this examination, he advised us to leave 



THE EMINENT DEAD. 



passion and appetite behind, and to go according to the 
dictates of reason and conscience. This advice (God 
•willing) I intend to follow. In the afternoon the text was 1 
Peter i. 15, 16. I endeavored to comply with the Presi- 
dent's request. It is wonderful how remiss men are in 
respect to their future state. I have been remarkably so. 
At the same time I have a very feeble constitution, and my 
health is very bad ; so that it is probable I shall soon go 
down to the grave, the house appointed for all the living. 
I pray God, in his infinite mercy, to prepare me for the 
change. 

December 28th, P. M. A sermon from the last verse of 
Ecclesiastes. It was very affecting. God, may I live 
mindful of the judgment ! , of our class, was pro- 
pounded for admission to the church. Would that I were 
fit. 

These serious hours were, however, comparatively, only 
exceptions to the general tenor of his life, which was still 
" according to the course of this world." 

1801, August 19th. News arrived of the death of 
Strong, my classmate. He was a member of the visible, 
and we hope of the real church of Christ. He and I were 
appointed disputants together seven months ago, and now 
he is gone ! " One shall be taken, and another left." This 
certainly ought to be a warning to me, and God grant that 
it may. 

1802, January 9th. From ray own experience, I am in- 
duced to believe that evil spirits are continually present on 
this earth, and that they tempt and lead astray the minds 
of men. Else, whence does it so frequently happen to me, 
and to many others, that, when we are thinking seriously 
on any subject, the bent of our minds is suddenly turned 
aside, and something seems to force itself forward on pur- 
pose to distract attention. The thoughts introduced are also 
of a light and profane character, — besides the circumstance 
of their being such as never before occurred. . How ought 
we to pray for assistance in the hour of formidable tempta- 
tion ! How ought we to thank the Lord for his kind pro- 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. < ; J / 

tection of us against the wiles of the arch-deceiver, ami. for 
the assurance in his word, — " resist the devil, and he will 
flee from you" 

March 7th. My friend Field * was admitted into the holy 
communion of the Christian church. I pray God that I 
may be no longer careless about my eternal salvation. 

The admission to the church of a member of his class, as 
mentioned in the last extract, and a conversation with the 
same individual the week before, were the means of greatly 
deepening Mr. Evarts' religious impressions. The evening 
of the 13th of March, was spent by him in conversation 
with Dr. Dwight and his tutor, Mr. Davis, on the question, 
What shall I do to be saved ? He very soon after found 
peace in believing, and consecrated himself to the service of 
Christ in a written covenant, as recommended in Dod- 
dridge's " Rise and Progress," which he was reading at the 
time. This was before any uncommon seriousness began to 
prevail in college. He very soon became a member of the 
College church, and engaged, humbly, but zealously, and 
with characteristic frankness and decision, in labors to bring 
his fellow-students to know and obey the truth. 

A remarkable revival was at this time in progress in col- 
lege, in which, during the remainder of his course, Mr. Ev- 
arts continued to labor, and with great success. 

Upon his graduation, in 1803, being in some measure 
undecided as to his future profession, and his pecuniary 
necessities requiring immediate attention, he accepted the 
principalship of a grammar school at Peacham, Vermont. 
His success as a teacher was of the most satisfactory char- 
acter ; he obtained at once the respect and esteem of the 
community, and the warm affection of his pupils. His 
Christian character remained unblemished ; in the midst of 
general coldness and stupidity among the members of the 
church, he maintained the ardor and devotedness of his 

* Rev. D. D. Field, D. D., now of Haddam, Conn. 



368 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

piety, co-operating zealously with his pastor, and laboring 
anxiously for the spiritual well-being of his daily charge. 
" He prepared himself for such duties with great care, and 
labored with prayerful earnestness to bring to repentance 
those who were committed into his hands. In school, and 
especially at the devotional exercises, with which it was daily 
opened and closed, he was watchful over his spirit and man- 
ner, lesfc he should offend God by cold formality, and lest 
something should be observed in his demeanor, or fall from 
his lips, that would leave an injurious impression on the 
young minds around him." 

The question of a profession was at this time a matter of 
serious and prayerful consideration. His reasons for ulti- 
mately choosing the law, the objections that were made by 
friends, and the difficulties attending such a choice, are thus 
candidly, and at large, stated by himself in a letter to a 
friend, written at this period : 

Peacham, December 5th, 1803. 

Your friendly letter of November 10th was received on. 
the 26th of the same month. I am obliged to you sincerely 
for the animadversions which it contains on the subject of a 
profession, though my mind is no more settled than it has been 
for a year or more. Indeed, this subject has given me no 
small degree of distress ; and I see not the least prospect of 
ever knowing my duty in the case. Perhaps it is right that 
for my sinfulness I should be left in perpetual obscurity and 
darkness. 

Those who are opposed to my studying law, stand on 
ground altogether untenable, in my opinion. The arguments 
which they use, would operate to exclude every man from 
that profession. If it is not right for a good man to study 
law, it certainly cannot be right for any man ; as all men 
ought, undoubtedly, to be good, and as a wicked man is, by 
no means, justifiable in doing any thing which a good man 
might not do. The law then must be given up as a cage 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 369 

of unclean birds, or collection of harpies polluting every 
thing by their impure touch. But do the persons who come 
to this conclusion, call to mind that almost all our laws come 
into existence by means of lawyers, and that this will proba- 
bly always be the case, the world remaining as it is ; and, 
moreover, that all who decide upon laws are, and ought to 
be, lawyers ; that is, they ought to have faithfully and dili- 
gently studied the laws upon which they decide ; and this 
includes all that I mean by the word lawyer. So true is 
this, that I never heard of a great judge who was not a law- 
yer; and I believe it to be impossible, in the nature of 
things, that there should be one, unless he were directly in- 
spired. For my part, I do not know of any judge of any 
important Court in the United States, who has not been a 
practising attorney. Then my opponents must say, that all 
our judges who are to decide in cases of life and death, in 
cases of oppression, cruelty, and extortion, in cases of re- 
ligious liberty, (whenever persecution shall exist) that all 
who are to legislate in matters of intricacy and importance, 
and that all who are to wield the Executive power of an ex- 
tensive and numerous people, ought to be taken from this 
cage of unclean birds, this banditti from whom every good 
man ought to keep himself at a safe distance. I can hardly 
conceive of a greater inconsistency. The Bible abundantly 
establishes the propriety of having legislators, judges, and 
officers, to carry the laws into execution. And you know it 
is a maxim of common sense, as well as of law, that when 
any thing is declared to be lawful, all other things which are 
necessary to the existence of that thing, are declared to be 
lawful also. Thus when God sanctions the appointment of 
judges, he must sanction every thing which is necessary to 
the proper qualification of these judges. The Old Testa- 
ment is full of examples and precepts, tending to show how 
good magistrates are made instrumental of building up ?nd 
extending the church, and evil ones of destroying and w? st- 
ing it. 

But, perhaps, some one will say, that in the present situa- 
tion of this guilty world, it is best for Christians to stand 
aloof from the concerns of it altogether, and to leave them 



370 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

to the direction of Satan and his satellites. But is this so ? 
If all the restraints which the civil law imposes, were taken 
off throughout New England, what would be the situation of 
Christianity three years hence ? With respect to engaging 
in any business, it has ever been my opinion, at least ever 
since my thoughts have been in any considerable degree oc- 
cupied by religion, that the welfare of immortal souls ought 
to be the ultimate object of every Christian's labors ; and, 
consequently, that every Christian ought to make it the busi- 
ness not only of his life, but of every day and every hour, 
to be employed in such a manner as he shall judge most con- 
ducive to the accomplishment of this glorious design. This 
obligation does not lie upon a minister, or upon a person 
qualified to be a minister, exclusively, but it is binding upon 
every humble laborer, upon every mother of a family, — in 
short, upon every Christian, and upon every man. I should 
not have mentioned this, but it is a common notion among 
mankind, that it belongs to ministers to take care of the 
souls of men, and that other persons have no concern in the 
business. However, I have no hesitation in declaring, that 
I can see no usefulness, nor amiableness, in conduct which 
does not tend either immediately or remotely to the everlast- 
ing happiness of men. 

But I do believe that many laymen are as useful in the 
Christian cause as many faithful ministers, or as they them- 
selves would have been had they been ministers. For aught 
that I can see, a Washington by his wisdom may have saved 
a nation from domestic wars, which would have brought, in 
their course, every crime that can deform the human charac- 
ter, and filled the land with blasphemy and murder. So 
that, supposing him to have acted upon motives of obedience 
to God, I see not why he may not be ranked among the 
wise, between whom, and those who have turned many to 
righteousness, there seems to be a very close connection. 
Indeed, I see not why he may not as really have been in- 
strumental in saving souls, though not so immediately, as an 
Edwards or a Dwight. Why may not a Kennicott, suppos- 
ing him never to have preached, have subserved the cause 
of religion as much as a Doddridge, a Fuller, or a Porteus? 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 371 

Why tnay not a Sir William Jones have been, as really and 
as effectually, a co-worker with Christ, as any minister of 
the gospel in Christendom ? A sea-captain is a character 
which promises as little of piety as almost any in the world ; 
yet, from what I have heard of Captain Wilson, I am ready 
to conclude that he has been as serviceable to the missions 
sent to the heathen from England, as any clergyman in 
Great Britain. In short, I cannot see that it savors less of 
humility, of attachment to the Christian cause, or of love to 
the souls of men, to talk of walking in the steps of Moses, 
of Joshua, of David, or of Daniel, who were rulers ; or of 
Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, or of Job, who were rich herd- 
men and agriculturists, diffusing peace and gladness all 
around them, than to think of imitating Samuel, or Isaiah, 
or Paul, in propagating the knowledge of divine truth. Or, 
to take men who are not at such an inconceivable distance 
from us in point of piety, is it not as much a mark of zeal 
for the truth to think of following a Treadwell, or an Ells- 
worth, or almost any of the ancient rulers of New England, 
as to imitate that very venerable body of ministers which 
our favored country has produced ? If, then, the profession 
of law is not in itself unlawful, it remains to be determined 
by circumstances, whether it is lawful for any given indi- 
vidual or not ; for, doubtless, neither that, nor the ministry, 
nor any other profession, is lawful for every man. 

I have but a little room, but I will state what I apprehend 
to be a few facts. 1. My health is such now, that I do not 
know that I have the least shadow of reason to imagine I 
could go through with the labors of a single Sabbath. 
2. From the unanimous advice of all the physicians whom I 
have consulted, and from six years' experience, I am led to 
conclude that I never can expect good health, and but a very 
slow and gradual restoration to a comfortable degree of 
health. 3. Ministers, besides the labors of the Sabbath, 
have to prepare for that day, and to take a principal part in 
funeral solemnities, lectures, conferences, &c, which I am 
sure I could not perform. 4. Almost every minister whom 
I have known, who has engaged in that arduous work with a 
feeble constitution, has been obliged to leave it ; and some 



372 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

who began with a good constitution. 5. It will take me a 
considerable time to get a profession, and then to be left 
without any resource, with something more than myself de- 
pendent upon me, would not contribute to the promotion of 
religion in my own soul, or the souls of others. 6. I con- 
scientiously believe I could not recommend any society to 
settle a man of so frail a constitution as I possess, even 
should I be able to preach at first. 

When I look at the bar, especially at the bar of Vermont, 
the prospect is exceedingly dark and unpleasant. The scar- 
city of good men here, is much greater than the scarcity of 
ministers. I am also fully persuaded that a close attend- 
ance upon Courts would be injurious to my health ; but then 
a lawyer is not obliged to attend, and to labor so statedly as 
a minister is. The great temptation to a lawyer, is worldly- 
mindedness, and with it comes desire to conform to the 
world. Where these gain a prevalence, religion is cut up by 
the roots. My great fear would be, therefore, that I should 
not live a religious life, and consequently that I should never 
do any good in the world. These considerations repel me 
from the bar many times, and I am driven to seek for a 
third alternative. But the instruction of youth would be a 
confinement for life, if I could go through with it ; for mer- 
chandize or agriculture I have no stock, and am ignorant of 
both. That God would direct me, now and for ever, is the 
prayer of your friend and brother. 

April 18th, 1804, having determined to make the law his 
profession, he repaired to New Haven, and entered himself 
a student at law with Judge Chauncey. He was admitted 
to the bar in 1806, and opened an office in New Haven for 
the practice of his profession, having previously married a 
daughter of Hon. Roger Sherman, a lady every way worthy 
of his choice. 

He did not remain sufficiently long in his profession, to es- 
tablish a reputation as a lawyer. He became, however, at 
once known as an able, well-read, and sound counsellor, but, 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 373 

as a member of the same bar remarked, " he ever had too 
much unbending integrity to be a popular lawyer." 

In 1810, at the earnest solicitation of his friends, he was 
induced to enter upon the editorship of the " Panoplist," a 
periodical, for the pages of which he had largely contributed, 
and which had been started some five years before, as 
the organ of the Evangelical party in the Congregational 
churches, at the period when the Unitarian controversy had 
begun to rage, and the friends and advocates of Unitarian- 
ism had commenced publicly to declare themselves, and to 
openly avow their sentiments. It was not, however, to con- 
troversial purposes solely, or principally, that it was devoted 
while under the charge of Mr. Evarts, but to a full and pop- 
ular illustration of Christianity. His qualifications for his 
present position were of the highest order. 

He was a practical and well-disciplined writer. He was 
accustomed to investigate subjects with direct reference to 
the state of the public mind, and to the wants of the church 
and the world ; and he had a fondness for writing which 
rendered it a pastime. His mind had been trained by severe 
discipline, and was furnished with extensive knowledge on a 
great variety of subjects, and entirely at his command. He 
had great critical acumen, and was able to search out and 
expose the most intricate and plausible sophistry. His power 
of discrimination and analysis, and his ability to examine a 
subject till he knew that he had seen the whole of it, and to ar- 
rive at conclusions in which to rest safely and with confidence, 
were remarkable. He was remarkable, also, for accuracy, in- 
dustry, and patience in research. While he possessed a moral 
courage that nothing could daunt, he was adorned with uncom- 
mon candor in controversy, and meekness and self-command 
under reproaches. His high estimate of the power and im- 
portance of the press, and his deep sense of responsibility, 
effectually secured him against rashness, and directed his 
labors toward the public good. His elevated standard of 

32 



374 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

religious feeling and action, and especially his enterprize and 
zeal in behalf of religious and charitable institutions, were 
just what was needed at that time in one sustaining that re- 
lation to the Christian public. In regard to the condition 
and wants of the churches, of the country, and of the world, 
his mind and heart were full. Subjects were always press- 
ing upon his thoughts and his conscience. In writing, his 
mind was too much engrossed with /his subject, and too fer- 
tile upon it, to admit of his being verbose or discursive. His 
style was characterized by no ornament, except such as is 
involved in expressing thought clearly, forcibly, and with 
strong feeling. His diction was pure and copious ; always 
manly, and indicative of the energy and comprehensiveness 
of his mind. 

Under his care, the reputation of the Panoplist immedi- 
ately rose ; and it was probably better supported, and had 
more of the confidence of the religious community generally, 
for the ten years during which it was under his editorship, 
than any similar work ever published in this country. This 
was secured as much by its admirable adaptation to the 
wants of the public, as by the sound judgment in other re- 
spects, and the literary ability and taste with which it was 
conducted. 

He entered ardently into all the moral and benevolent move- 
ments of the day, taking a lively interest in whatever affected 
the well-being of his fellow men. On the great question of 
universal peace, he anticipated the positions of our modern 
Peace Societies ; and the suffering slave was not forgotten in 
his generous and Christian sympathies. He was one of the 
first managers of the American Bible Society, and was 
deeply interested in the American Education Society, of 
which he was one of the Executive Committee. 

In 1810, when the burning zeal of young Mills and his 
associates in Williams College, induced them to devote them- 
selves to the work of foreign missions, and to call upon the 
church to send them forth in their Master's name, Mr. 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 375 

Evarts, in connection with the association of the Congrega- 
tional clergymen of Massachusetts, formed and organized the 
American Board of Foreign Missions ; an institution in which 
the former was peculiarly interested, from its origin until his 
death, and to the usefulness and success of w T hich his efforts 
largely contributed. At the annual meeting, in 1811, he 
was elected Treasurer, and entered at once upon the re- 
sponsible duties of his office, overseeing not only the funds, 
but managing, also, the collections, writing the annual re- 
ports and addresses, and sharing largely in the duties of the 
corresponding secretary ; taking long tours through the 
country, soliciting funds, and visiting the Indian missions. 
Upon the death of Dr. Worcester, the corresponding sec- 
retary, in 1821, Mr. Evarts was elected to fill his place, and 
to be the editor of the Missionary Herald. His labors now 
became arduous in the extreme ; every hour had its appro- 
priate business ; and he kept a most sedulous watch over 
every moment, lest one should be unappropriated to the 
great object in which all his faculties were engaged. From 
this period until 1830, he continued in the most diligent dis- 
charge of his duties ; every succeeding year developing his 
clear judgment and extraordinary resources for overcoming 
difficulties, and ensuring success. Now he Avas engaged in 
giving important counsel to missionaries in far distant lands, 
now taking long tours throughout the country, soliciting the 
tardy charities of the church, now watching, with anxious 
interest, the progress of the Indian questions in Congress, 
at Washington, (the well-being of the Indian missions being 
deeply involved in their proper settlement) and anon taking 
a decided and prominent position in the advocacy of some 
of the great moral reforms of the day. Under such an ac- 
cumulation of responsibility and labor, his delicate frame 



376 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

began to sink. In 1829, his biographer thus refers to his 
bodily prostration : 

We are now arrived at those months of intense anxiety 
and unremitted labor, that proved too much for the feeble 
constitution of Mr. Evarts, and hurried him to his final rest. 
Indeed, from the beginning of 1828, the outrages at the 
Sandwich Islands, and one or two other harassing subjects 
immediately connected with his official duties, had filled his 
mind, to an unwonted degree, with anxiety and care. He 
could always sleep soundly, when he chose ; and that power 
enabled him, though of so frail health, to endure what would 
have broken down most stronger men. But he allowed him- 
self scarcely any other moments of rest or relaxation. Much 
of the time away from home, busy with other men during 
their active hours, and then preparing important and volum- 
inous documents when alone, protracting his labors to eleven 
and twelve o'clock at night, and even later, — although he 
reached the beginning of the year 1829, without a sensible 
failure of health, it is evident from the result, that the sus- 
taining power, even then, was in the spiritual, rather than 
the physical energies. 

After an anxious and laborious month at home, he left 
Boston at the close of January, on his way to Washington, 
whither he was called, not only by the agitation of the ques- 
tion of the removal of the Indians, but by the earnest repre- 
sentations of gentlemen in Boston, New York, and at the 
seat of government, urging the importance of his attention 
there, to second the memorials that had been forwarded in 
great numbers, praying for a discontinuance of the Sabbath 
mails. " It would give me pleasure," he writes to Mr. 
Bissel, " did time permit, to write upon the various topics 
which you mention. But I am much occupied ; new business 
comes upon me daily ; and I am wishing to set out soon for 
Washington, to attend to the concerns of Indian missions, 
and to afford my feeble aid in regard to Sabbath measures. 
The spirit of your letter I admire. Several important 
thoughts may be of use to me and to others. I w r ould cau- 
tion you, however, against saving severe things against the 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 377 

rich. Our Saviour knew the hearts of all men ; but we are 
weak and ignorant, and may be too much influenced by the 
pressure of circumstances, partial views, and various pas- 
sions. The principle of universal consecration may indeed 
be insisted upon ; and the obligation to do all we can, and 
to do it now." * 

In 1830, he made his last annual report, it being the 
tenth he had made ; just the number that had been made by 
his predecessor in office before his death. This circumstance 
seemed to have made a strong impression upon his mind. 

Meantime, the ordinary business of the Board was calling 
for unusual labors, especially in regard to the sending out 
of a reinforcement to the Sandwich Islands mission. " I 
doubt not," writes Mr. Evarts to an associate on the Pru- 
dential Committee, " I doubt not you feel with me, that our 
responsibilities are assuming a more weighty character than 
ever before ; and that Ave have serious difficulties to contend 
with. As to our proposed excursion to Exeter, [to attend a 
missionary meeting] I must be excused from going, if other 
arrangements can be made ; if not, I will go. The fact is, 
there are a great many more things to be done here [at his 
office] than can possibly be accomplished." 

About the middle of December, he visited New Bedford, 
to superintend the embarkation of missionaries, and to attend 
missionary meetings in the vicinity. In this tour he spent 
about two weeks of hard and exciting labor, and exposed often 
to weather exceedingly unfavorable to his health, of the failure 
of which he had before received decided admonition. His 
time was employed in consultation with the missionaries and 
arranging their concerns ; in writing the official instruc- 
tions, and numerous letters to the missionaries and chiefs at 
the Islands ; in attending meetings, and in other ways hold- 
ing intercourse with the people of New Bedford and the 
neighboring towns, for the purpose of securing among them a 
warmer interest in the operations of the Board. Other 
subjects, however, were by no means excluded from his 

32* 



378 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

thoughts, as the following passages from his journal, ad- 
dressed to a friend and fellow-laborer, show : 

" Fall River, a quarter before 12 o'clock, December 20th. 
I now retire to rest, but must mention that I have read this 
evening, in the Christian Spectator for December, part of 
the Review of Sprague's Lectures. I wish you to read from 
page 651 to the end of the article. On page 652 you will 
find thoughts like those in the close of our last Report. 
That and the next page are powerfully written. Blessed is 
the man who warns his countrymen of their dangers, and 
rouses Christians to the proper state of activity. On page 
656 is a powerful expostulation with parents, on doing what 
they can to fix the character of their children as friends of 
God ; and the next page has a most indignant reprobation of 
the seducers and destroyers of youth, by means of vice and 
infidelity. I have seldom been more deeply affected in re- 
gard to my responsibility as a parent, than by this article. 

" 21st. Evening. Met gentlemen at Mr. Holmes's, and 
spent the greater part of the evening in conversation on the 
Indian question. It was resolved to call a meeting of friends 
of the Indians, at some day within a short time, with the 
view of petitioning in their behalf. Conversed also about a 
subscription here in aid of our mission, besides a collection. 
This was agreed upon, though rather in a faint manner. 

" 26th. Sabbath. I have thought much this morning 
on the wisdom of living habitually in such a state that death 
could not take me by surprise ; by which I mean, that trust 
in God should be so constantly in exercise, and the fear of 
offending Him so predominant, and faith in the Saviour so 
lively, that a known summons to leave the world, should 
create neither apprehension nor alarm. How far I have 
been, or am, in possession of such a state of mind, there 
would be no use in my declaring ; but I do most seriously 
desire that all my friends should seek after and obtain it. 

" 28th. At sunrise, the bell of Mr. Holmes's church 
tolled, as a signal for the embarkation of the missionaries. 
We immediately repaired to the wharf, where, a parting 
hymn was sung, and a prayer was offered by Dr. Wisner. 



JEREMIAH EVART3. 379 

Many persons of both sexes were present. The scene was 
deeply affecting to many. We took a hasty and affectionate 
leave of the missionaries, as the sloop which conveyed them 
was about leaving the wharf. " 

Mr. Evarts immediately returned to Boston, but reached 
home much debilitated. He proceeded, however, to prepare 
the Memorial of the Board to Congress on the state of the 
Indians, to write various important official letters, and to 
put all his secular affairs in the most perfect order for his 
contemplated absence, expecting to proceed to Washington 
to do what might be practicable there on behalf of the 
Indians, and thence on an agency in the Middle or South- 
western States. His active correspondence with eminent 
members of Congress, and with other gentlemen, in regard 
to Indian affairs, was continued, and he was daily consulted 
upon all the leading movements of the season, legislative and 
other, upon the subject. His friends at Washington kept 
him advised of every movement there, and of the dispositions 
that prevailed, and urged his presence ; and he continued, 
though with obviously failing health, to cherish his plan for 
spending the winter and spring as above mentioned, till, 
early in February, he was advised that it was necessary to 
relinquish business, and to seek immediately a tropical cli- 
mate. On the 2d of February, the Memorial of the Board 
was sent on to Mr. Everett, with a letter expressing the 
hope that improving health would soon enable him to follow. 
On the 14th, that hope had fled. 

The next day he embarked for Havana ; and a note of 
sympathy and friendship from Mr. Everett, written at the 
close of an honorable, but ineffectual, endeavor, on his part, 
to secure a proper re-hearing of the case of the Indians, 
closed sadly, his intercourse on earth with his friends in 
Congress. 

lie had a favorable passage, and arrived at Havana on 
the 2nd of March, without any improvement of his health. 
There, and at the hospitable mansion of Mrs. Jcnckes, near 
Mantanzas, he remained, enjoying every advantage of cli- 
mate, and the kindest attentions, with health, as he thought, 



380 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

gradually improving,* till the eighteenth of April, when he 
embarked for f Savannah. There he arrived on the 24th, 
much exhausted by the brief voyage. After remaining one 
week, his friends most assiduously administering to his com- 
fort, he proceeded by water to Charleston, which city he 
reached on the 3d of May. There, in the family of the 
Rev. Dr. Palmer, pastor of the Circular Church, and sur- 
rounded by a circle of acquaintance, every thing which 
friendship or medical skill could" suggest, was done to 
restore vigor and health to his diseased system, but without 
effect. He steadily and rapidly declined, and it was soon 
evident that his labors on earth were drawing to a close. 

Previous to his departure from home, he had manifested 
an unusually spiritual state of mind. There was a solemnity 
of conversation and demeanor, a tenderness of affection to- 
wards his family and friends, a thankfulness for every thing 
done for him, a quiet committing of himself and family, and 
of all the great interests in which he was concerned, into the 
hands of his Heavenly Father, which were uncommon even 
for him, and wholly indescribable. He faithfully counselled 
every member of his family, and did every thing, and said 
every thing, which would have been expected, and in the 
very spirit which would have become him, if he had known 
that he should never return. Indeed, this apparent comple- 
tion of his work, and this striking meetness for the heavenly 
world, occasioned a sort of secret foreboding in his friends 
that they should see him no more. 

He remained in the same calm and devout frame through 
the whole of his sickness. On his voyage, his mind, he re- 
marked, " was peaceful, though solemn." " I have been 
entirely free from anxiety — have daily consecrated myself 
to God, and felt happy in being in his hands and waiting his 
pleasure." 

While crossing the Bahama Banks, Sabbath, February 
27th, he wrote : — " Daily, and many times a day, I have 
been disposed, I trust, to acknowledge the goodness of God, 

* Subsequent events show that this was nothing more than a slight tem- 
porary relief in regard to some symptoms. 

. t The private memorandum was about this time. 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 381 

and to consecrate myself anew to his service. I had thought 
of making a formal and written consecration of myself to 
the Lord this forenoon ; but my mind is so weighed down 
by my feeble body, that I can write nothing, except of the 
simplest kind, and cannot adequately dwell upon the amazing 
theme of being a servant of God, and of having him for my 
portion for ever." And a few hours after: "We have 
turned the southwest end of Abaco. I have looked at this 
work of God, which it is not likely I shall see again ; and 
have turned my thoughts many times to the great and 
blessed Creator of all." 

" Here, in this sea, I consecrate myself to God as my 
chief good : — to him as my Heavenly Father, infinitely 
kind and tender of his children ; to him as my kind and 
merciful Redeemer, by whose blood and merits alone I do 
hope for salvation ; to him as the beneficent Renewer and 
Sanctifier of the saved. I implore the forgiveness of my 
numerous and aggravated transgressions ; and I ask that 
my remaining time and strength may be employed for 
the glory of God, my portion, and for the good of his 
creatures." 

" Whether I make my grave on the land or in the ocean, 
I submit cheerfully to him. It will be as he pleases ; and 
so it should be. I pray that the circumstances of my death, 
be it sooner or later, may be favorable to religion ; that I 
may not deceive myself in the great concerns of my soul ; 
that I may depart in peace, and be received, through infinite 
mercy, to the everlasting kingdom of my Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ." 

He still retained the same thankfulness for every favor he 
received. After arriving in Cuba, he writes : — "I have 
a thousand things to be thankful for :' and it is my daily 
prayer that, if my health should be fully restored, I may be 
more entirely consecrated to God, than at any previous 
period of my life." " I cannot be sufficiently thankful that 
Providence has sent me to so good a place for the recovery 
of my health ; where I have so many good things, and so 
many kind attentions from strangers, to whom I am and 
shall be under great obligations." 



382 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

The missionary cause was still dear to his heart, and its 
interests were taken into the account in all his plans. In 
writing to his associates for their advice respecting the 
course to be pursued for the recovery of his health, he says : 
" I would distinctly premise, what has been so often said 
before, that the Committee will advise (as I wish them and 
myself to decide in this matter) with a single, though en- 
larged view, to the interests of the missionary cause. This 
should always be prominent, both in profession and in fact. 
Whatever individuals may do from personal considerations, 
or from a regard to the cause, or from both classes of 
motives jointly, it has always been the maxim of the Com- 
mittee to act, as a Committee, from public motives only ; 
and whenever we may have failed in this respect, it has been 
from error in judgment, or want of wisdom or firmness ; and 
not from allowing a different principle from the one just 
mentioned." In a subsequent letter, remarking on a voyage 
to England, and travelling in this country — the two courses 
that had been proposed for his restoration to health — he pre- 
ferred the voyage, " if," he adds, "the prospect should be 
that I should have sufficient vigor while abroad, to make my 
travels useful to the missionary cause : otherwise I should 
not think it best to go, though it promise fairer to health 
than any other course. I would not lift a finger to go to 
England, (much and long as I have venerated that country, 
and a portion of its inhabitants) unless the cause of Christ 
would be promoted, so far as we can judge, by such a visit." 
At a later date : "I keep the missionary cause in view in 
all these plans ; that is, I seek restoration for the sake of 
laboring in the missionary cause. It has certainly been my 
chosen employment. I now consecrate myself to God for 
this cause. If he needs or designs to accept my services, 
he will retain them : if not, it will be for reasons infinitely 
good and wise." 

The Indians, though he had endeavored to dismiss anxious 
care respecting them, were not forgotten. Referring to 
their case in a letter, he remarked : — " I have not allowed 
this subject to oppress my mind at all. It has been a 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 383 

standing topic in rny prayers ; and I have endeavored to 
leave it quietly to the disposition of Providence." 

His family continued to share in his affectionate counsels 
and prayers. Describing the manner in which he spent his 
days, and mentioning his wife, and his children by name, he 
writes : " I early pray for you and for other relatives, and 
consecrate myself to God for the day." Again, to one of 
his children : " You will not forget that religion is the great 
thing ; that it is to be sought first of all ; that nothing else 
is, comparatively, worthy of attention. It is beyond ex- 
pression important that you, at this period of your life, make 
it the first object of desire and pursuit. These things you 
have often heard ; but I feel it to be my duty to call your 
mind particularly and solemnly to them. My own mind is 
very frequently upon them." 

Before leaving Cuba, he received intelligence of a revival 
of religion in Yale College, and that his eldest son* was a 
partaker in its special blessings. 

" This news," he writes, " I receive with most devout 
joy and gratitude. I render humble and hearty thanks to 
God, and pray that he will prevent this youth from being 
deceived or mistaken ; that his spiritual advisers may be 
faithful and wise ; and that he may be taught by the Spirit 
of truth." " It is impossible that I should write to John at 
such length as I could wish. He needs attention con- 
stantly and immediately. I would therefore urgently re- 
quest Mr. G. to write him a long and faithful letter on the 
amazing importance of being a thorough, instead of a feeble, 
doubtful, half-way Christian. The times demand the best 
of men and women ; and this is the certain, and only certain 
way to happiness, while passing through this world." To 
his son he wrote : " This intelligence gave me great joy. I 
immediately gave thanks to God for it. I know very well 
that sometimes reports of this kind are premature ; and that 
young persons sometimes deceive themselves ; yet I cannot 
help keeping this day, as far as possible, as a day of thanks- 

* John J. Evarts, then in College, who was cut off in the bloom of life, a 
scholar and Christian of high promise, and followed his father to his rest in 
1833, at the age of twenty-one. 



384 TPIE EMINENT DEAD. 

giving." " And now, my dear son, I commend you to God 
in Jesus Christ, praying that you may be taught by the 
Spirit ; that your College teachers and others may be 
faithful to your soul ; that you may make thorough work in 
regard to the state of your heart, and a consecration of 
yourself to God ; that you may thus be prepared, in the 
best and only sure way, for happiness in this world ; that 
you may be useful to your fellow men, and look with a well 
grounded confidence for Heaven at last." 

" I have prayed for you daily, and more than once a day, 
particularly ; the burden of my supplication being that this 
interesting time of life — this very spring — might not pass, 
and leave you without religion. I should be glad to write 
more, but my weakness will not allow it." 

"P. S. Let me exhort you to read two or three, or 
more pages of Baxter's Saint's Rest, very deliberately and 
prayerfully every day." 

As Mr. Evarts walked with God during his life, so when 
he found himself near the grave, and already entering the 
valley of death, he was assured that his Lord and Saviour 
was with him still. There was nothing in the prospect dark 
or alarming. He viewed the scene around him and watched 
the approaches of death with entire calmness and self-con- 
trol. On Friday, the 6th of May, four days before his 
departure, a number of ministers, at his request, met him in 
his chamber, when, though exceedingly weak and prostrate, 
he addressed them, and remarked that he knew his case to 
be extremely critical — that he found it pleasant to be in 
the hands of God, who would do all things well — and that 
he had no painful solicitude as to the results of his sickness, 
but thought it his duty to use every means for the preser- 
vation of life. He then requested an interest in their special 
and united prayers : — 1st, That if consistent with God's 
will, he might recover ; 2ndly, That he might have a sweet 
sense of pardoned sin and unshaken confidence in the Sa- 
viour ; 3dly, That if God should spare his life, he might be 
wholly and entirely the Lord's, consecrated to his service ; 
and 4thly, That, if it should please God to remove him by 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 385 

this sickness, he might be able to glorify him on a bed of 
languishing and pain, and that his precious cause might be 
promoted by his death. He then expressed a firm and 
abiding hope in the Lord Jesus, and seemed like a little 
child sweetly reclining on the arm of its faithful protector. 
By this effort he was so much exhausted that, at his request, 
the persons present retired to another apartment for special 
prayer. 

During Saturday, there was no material change in his 
symptoms. Still, however, he was more feeble, and his 
pains returned with violence. On Saturday evening he 
remarked: " To-morrow is the rest of the holy Sabbath. I 
may be in eternity before it arrives. My mind is so weak 
that I cannot pursue a train of thought ; but I bless God, it 
is tranquil. Not my will, but thine, God, be done ! " To 
one who remarked — We hardly know how to spare you 
from the missionary cause, he said : "Do n't mention it, 
don't mention it ; the Lord knows best." After taking a 
little food, he said : " I shall require but little more nourish- 
ment in this world. My work is almost done — Jesus 
reigns — blessed be he. I wish to lie as a penitent sinner 
at the foot of the cross." About nine o'clock he breathed 
out a short but comprehensive prayer, in interrupted and 
broken petitions, making at its close a full and entire sur- 
render of body and soul into the Redeemer's hands ; and 
said : " dear Saviour, if this be the last night I have to 
pray on earth, let my unworthy prayer be exchanged for 
praise in thy kingdom above. Amen, amen." Speaking 
of his family, he said : " I pity them ; but God is a faithful 
God, he will take care of them — he will take care of them: 
that is enough." On being asked if he had any particular 
message to send them, he said : " Give them my love — my 
dying love — the Lord reigns." 

On Sabbath morning his appearance was greatly changed, 
and during the day he was gradually sinking, yet able to 
converse. To a young professor of religion who was in 
attendance, he said : " You have professed religion while 
young ; so did I. I rejoice in it. All I have to say to you 
is, endeavor to aim at high attainments. The present age 

33 



386 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

demands great things of Christians. Be not satisfied with 
being half a Christian. Be entirely consecrated to his ser- 
vice. There are some things that I could do, if Providence 
wills that I should get better ; but I have no will of my own. 
I can rejoice that I am in the hands of the Lord. My 
mind is perfectly clear." To several young Christians he 
said : " I feel a great interest in young Christians. I want 
to exhort you to help each other. Live near to God. Be 
bold in his service. It is the only thing worth being bold 
in. Do not be afraid. The Lord be with you." In the 
evening he again mentioned his family with much emotion, 
but added, " I am willing to go. I have committed them 
all to God. He has been good to them." 

On the morning of the 10th, when told, in answer to his 
inquiry, that death seemed to be near, he said : " The will 
of the Lord be done. Attend now to what I say, as to the 
words of a dying man." Then naming the several members 
of his family and other relatives, he added : " To all my 
relations and friends, grace, mercy, and peace in the Lord 
Jesus Christ, by whom alone they and I can hope to be 
saved. And I wish in these dying words to recognize the 
great Redeemer as the Saviour from sin and hell ; able and 
willing to save all that come unto God by him. To him I 
commend my spirit, as to an all-sufficient Saviour. He is 
the great champion and conqueror of death and hell. And 
I recognize the great Spirit of God as the renovator of 
God's elect; and herein, if I gather strength, I wish to 
recognize and acknowledge the church of God, containing 
all who have truly dedicated themselves to him in a true and 
everlasting covenant. And here permit me, a poor unworthy 
worm of the dust, to give thanks to many of the children of 
God, from whom I have received confidence, kindness, and 
favor, as a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. And one 
more duty ; if in any respect I have offended the children 
of God, I ask their forgiveness. If I have grieved them 
by impatience, or any other way, I ask their forgiveness." 

A few hours after, when his thoughts were evidently 
fixed on the Saviour and the heavenly world, he was asked, 
Have you any thing to say to the missionaries — any 



JEREMIAH EVARTS. 387 

message ? He said : " Oh yes, oh yes ; but I am afraid I 
shall make distinctions — do n't let me make distinctions." 
No, was the reply — all the missionaries. Does the mis- 
sionary cause appear more precious and important than ever ? 
After a considerable pause, and with much expression of 
countenance and emphasis of manner, he said : " You have 
called me back to the world ! " 

During the day, he had seasons of pain and very laborious 
breathing. About nine o'clock in the evening, expecting 
that his time was come, he requested to be laid in a position 
suitable for the occasion. But in about a quarter of an 
hour he had a return of violent pain, and when nearly 
exhausted, he said, " Dear Jesus." It was added: 

" While on his breast I lean my head, 
And breathe my life out sweetly there." 

Immediately he burst forth with expressions of rapture which 
cannot be described : — " Praise him, praise him, praise 
him in a way which you know not of." It was said, You 
will soon see Jesus as he is, and you will then know how to 
praise him. " Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful glory. We 
cannot understand — we cannot comprehend — wonderful 
glery — I will praise him, I will praise him. Who are in 
the room ? Call all in — call all — let a great many come ; 
I wish to give directions — wonderful — glory — Jesus 
reigns." All the members of the family were called ; but 
before they could be assembled, he sank down exhausted, 
and scarcely spoke again. He continued to breathe, free 
from any paroxysm of pain, until a quarter before eleven 
o'clock, when he fell asleep in Jesus. 



388 THE EMINENT DEAD. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 

Although he that once bore this title upon the earth, has 
not been an inhabitant of time for the past twenty years, yet 
the name of Payson is still fragrant and precious in the 
church of Christ. 

Edward Payson was born at Rindge, N. H., July 25th, 
1783. His father, the Rev. Seth Payson, D. D., was pastor 
of the Congregational church in Rindge — a man greatly 
respected for his intelligence and piety. To the fidelity of 
his parents young Payson owed much of his subsequent emi- 
nence and remarkable attainments in holiness. His mother, 
especially, was unceasing in her efforts to inculcate right 
principles, and to secure the early conversion of her son. 
" She appears," says his biographer, Rev. Mr. Cummings, 
" to have admitted him to the most intimate, unreserved, 
and confiding intercourse, which was yet so wisely con- 
ducted, as to strengthen rather than diminish his filial 
reverence ; to have cherished a remarkable inquisitiveness 
of mind, which early discovered itself in him ; and to have 
patiently heard, and replied to the almost endless inquiries, 
which his early thirst for knowledge led him to propose. * * 
Edward's recollections of her extended back to very early 
childhood ; and he has been heard to say that though she 
was very solicitous that he might be liberally educated, and 
receive every accomplishment which would increase his 
respectability and influence in the world, yet he could dis- 
tinctly see, that the supreme, the all-absorbing concern of 
her soul respecting him, was, that he might become a child 
of God. This manifested itself in her discipline, her coun- 
sels, expostulations, and prayers, which were followed up 
with a perseverance that nothing could check. And they 



EDWARD PAYSON. 389 

were not in vain. From the first development of his moral 
powers, his mind was more or less affected by his condition 
and prospects as a sinner. It is among the accredited tra- 
ditions of his family, that he was often known to weep under 
the preaching of the gospel, when only three years old. 
About this period, too, he would frequently call his mother 
to his bedside to converse on religion, and to answer 
numerous questions respecting his relation to God and the 
future world. " 

His studies were chiefly attended to under the superin- 
tendence of his father, and his early mental development 
gave encouraging promise of his future success. In the 
year 1800, he entered Harvard College, at an advanced 
standing, in the sophomore class, and commenced that most 
important and trying period of a young man's career. 
Payson passed this ordeal unharmed, graduated honorably 
in 1803, and immediately entered upon the office of a 
teacher, taking charge of an Academy, then recently estab- 
lished, in Portland, Me. 

In the year 1804, his mind was powerfully aroused to a 
sense of his religious deficiencies. He had never, probably, 
from his youth, failed in the performance of the duty of 
prayer. He had exhibited a life peculiarly marked for its 
probity and morality, and he had ever preserved lively 
impressions of the value of experimental religion. Without 
doubt he had experienced what in Scripture is termed, being 
"born again," but he had become in some measure worldly- 
minded, and was conscious of self-condemnation in view of 
his religious responsibilities. He had, at this time, estab- 
lished a high character in the community where he taught, 
and was greatly respected for his talents and integrity. He 
now solemnly re-consecrates himself to God. July 25th, 
1805, he writes in his diary : " Having resolved this day 
33* 



390 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

to dedicate myself to my Creator, in a serious and solemn 
manner, by a written covenant, I took a review of my past 
life, and of the numerous mercies by which it has been dis- 
tinguished. Then, with sincerity, as I humbly hope, I took 
the Lord to be my God, and engaged to love, serve, and 
obey him. Relying on the assistance of his Holy Spirit, I 
engaged to take the Holy Scriptures as the rule of my con- 
duct, the Lord Jesus to be my Saviour, and the Spirit of all 
grace and consolation as my Guide and Sanctifier. The 
vows of God are upon me." In September of this year, he 
formally united himself with the church, and never from that 
time forgot his covenant vows. He emphatically came out 
from the world, and became separate. He carried his devo- 
tional feelings into his school, and into all his social rela- 
tions, expressing freely and fully his anxieties for the spiritual 
interests of his youthful charge, and in behalf of his own 
associates. In August, 1806, Mr. Payson submitted to a 
growing conviction in his own bosom, that God had called 
him to devote his services more exclusively to the work of 
saving souls. He resigned his charge of the Academy and 
returned to his native town, to pursue, under the direction 
of his father, those studies necessary to prepare him for a 
successful discharge of the ministerial office. 

This work was most thoroughly performed ; especially did 
he give himself up to a most rigid and prayerful examina- 
tion of the teachings of the Bible — he made this book 
emphatically "the man of his counsel and the guide of his 
faith." This may, in no slight degree, account for his 
peculiar success and readiness in presenting and defending 
Scripture truths in his pastoral career. 

In May, 1807, Mr. Payson, having passed through the 
preliminary studies, was ordained to the solemn office and 
work of the ministry, and immediately commenced the active 



EDWARD PAYSON. 391 

exercise of its duties. His pulpit efforts, savored, as they 
were, with extraordinary devoutness and humility, were 
received with the utmost satisfaction by the church, and 
lively hopes were at once entertained that he would become 
an eminently successful instrument in the work of human 
salvation ; expectations that were fully realized. Mr. Pay- 
son was soon called to labor in connection with another 
minister, in one of the largest churches in Portland — the 
scene of his former efforts as an instructor — his venerable 
father preaching his ordination sermon. He commenced 
immediately the most zealous exertions for the spiritual ben- 
efit of his flock, exertions so great, that while they were 
blessed to the great revival of the church, his own health 
was fearfully perilled. After a short respite, he commenced 
afresh his coveted employment. 

Mr. Payson was a man of strong and peculiarly vivid 
imagination, of a solemn and impressive delivery ; he was 
exceedingly amiable in his disposition, a perfect gentleman 
in all his intercourse with his fellow men ; he had a remark- 
able facility in conversation, often amounting to perfect 
brilliancy, and in addition to this, and crowning all, he w r as 
eminently devout, and thoroughly impressed with a convic- 
tion of the reality of the tremendous truths he was sent to 
preach to those that waited upon his ministry. He was an 
orator naturally, but under the influence of the truths he 
believed and had experienced, and inspired with the utmost 
desire for the salvation of his hearers, his thoughts kindled 
into living flames, his words burned on the ears of his rapt 
auditories, and his face and form seemed almost, at timo r i, to 
be transfigured, and to become ang^?. "With all his other 
gifts and graces, it was his simplicitj' of character, the 
singleness of his purpose, and the purity of his life, that 
produced such a profound impression upon all the congre- 



392 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

gations where he labored. His services were eagerly sought 
for by different and influential churches, but no argument 
of a selfish nature could influence his course ; he felt it to 
be his duty to remain with a people that had loved him from 
the first, and were ever increasing in their attachment to 
him. So far from an increase of salary offering a tempta- 
tion to him to seek a new settlement, he actually begged 
with great earnestness, his own church, to take off an 
addition that they had voluntarily made to his annual 
income, assuring them that he could not for a moment bear 
the idea of making money in the ministry. 

His labors were not confined to the pulpit, but he sought 
in the social circle, by pastoral visiting, by private inter- 
course, in the chamber of the sick, among all classes and 
ages, to win men to Christ. Wherever Mr. Payson went, 
" they took knowledge of him that he had been with Jesus." 
His success, as may be supposed, was encouraging, seals of 
his ministry were continually increasing, and stars were 
placed in the heavenly constellations, to shine in his crown 
of rejoicing. 

With a naturally delicate constitution, these zealous 
labors by day and by night, made painful inroads upon his 
health. Symptoms of a pulmonary affection, that had 
always threatened him, but which had been in a measure 
mitigated by careful attention, and by medicine, now began 
to exhibit themselves in a more malignant form. His last 
labors, and his victory over pain and death, are thus 
recounted in the Memoir of his life. 

Dr. Payson was at length compelled to yield to the irre- 
sistible power of disease. Parts of his body, including his 
right arm and left side, were very singularly affected. They 
were incapable of motion, and lost all sense of feeling exter- 
nally ; while, in the interior parts of the limbs thus affected, 



EDWABD PAYSON. 393 

he experienced, at intervals, a most intense burning sensa- 
tion, which he compared to a stream of fused metal, or 
liquid fire, coursing through his bones. No external appli- 
cations were of the least service ; and in addition to his 
acute sufferings from this source, he was frequently subject 
to most violent attacks of nervous headache. 

It was with great reluctance that he relinquished preach- 
ing. "The spirit continued willing" long after the "flesh 
failed." But who can resist the appointment of Heaven ! 
The decree had gone forth, that he must die ; and the 
progress of his complicated maladies declared but too une- 
quivocally, that the decree must soon be executed. He did 
not, however, cease preaching at once, but, at first, secured 
assistance for half the day only. An arrangement to this 
effect, which was expected to continue several weeks, com- 
menced on the second Sabbath of March. He occupied the 
pulpit in the morning. His text was, The vjord of the Lord 
is tried. The sermon was not written, of course ; but no 
one that he ever wrote, not even his celebrated discourse on 
the Bible, was more instructive and eloquent than this — 
particularly those parts in which he described the trials to 
which the word of the Lord had been subjected by its 
enemies, and the tests of a different character which it had 
sustained from its friends. Never, scarcely, were the 
mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, insignificant, and 
foolish. " He who sitteth in the heavens ' ? could almost be 
seen " deriding them." When describing the manner in 
which Christians had tried it, he " spoke out of the abun- 
dance of his heart." Experience aided his eloquence, and 
added strength to the conviction which it wrought. And it 
would have been listened to with a still greater intenseness 
of interest, had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding 
chapter, been known. The application of the subject to his 
auditory must be left for imagination to supply ; for it cannot 
be conveyed on paper. 

On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the congre- 
gation to resume their seats. He descended from the pulpit, 
and took his station in front of it, and commenced a most 
solemn appeal to the assembly. He began with a recog- 



394 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

nition of that feeling in an auditory, which leads them to 
treat a minister's exhortations as if they were merely a 
discharge of professional duty, by one placed above them, 
and having little sympathy with them. " I now put aside 
the minister," said he ; "I come down among you ; place 
myself on a visible equality ; I address you as a fellow man, 
a friend, a brother, and fellow traveller to the bar of God ; 
as one equally interested with yourselves in the truths which 
I have been declaring." He then gave vent to the strug- 
gling emotions of his heart, in a strain of affectionate en- 
treaty, expressing the most anxious desires for their salva- 
tion. In conclusion, he referred them to the common 
practice, when men have any great object to accomplish, of 
assembling together, and adopting resolutions expressive of 
their convictions and purposes; and he wished his hearers 
to follow him in a series which he was about to propose, and 
to adopt them, not by any visible act or expression, but 
mentally, if they thought them of sufficient importance, and 
could do it sincerely. One resolution expressed a convic- 
tion of the truth of the Bible ; another, of criminal indiffer- 
ence to its momentous disclosures ; another acknowledged 
the claims of Jehovah ; another, the paramount importance 
of attention to the concerns of the soul ; and another, the 
purpose to seek its salvation without delay. Though his 
withered right arm hung helpless by his side, yet he seemed 
" instinct with life ; " and every successive resolution was 
rendered emphatic by a gesture of the left. 

Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his last 
public ministrations, particularly at the communion table, 
some feeble conception may be formed from an extract 
furnished by a gentleman, who, for twelve years, had been 
only an occasional attendant on his ministry. The first 
paragraph has no special reference to this period, but may 
properly be retained for the value of its testimony : 

" At the sacramental table, especially, did his mind 
appear to be absorbed in the contemplation of things unseen 
and eternal. To a candid observer it was manifest, at such 
seasons, that his ; fellowship was with the Father, and with 



EDWARD PAYSON. 395 

his Son, Jesus Christ.' I doubt not that I express the 
feelings of each member of this church, when I say, that 
often, on these occasions, he seemed to soar to the third 
heaven ; and by those fervent and elevated effusions of 
thought, with "which he always accompanied his administra- 
tion of the ordinance, he literally carried the minds, if not 
the hearts, of his hearers with him. His influence, in this 
respect, is associated with my earliest recollections of Dr. 
Payson. In one particular instance, which occurred during 
my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence of his elo- 
quence on my own mind ; arising, doubtless, more from the 
attraction of his fervent zeal, and that creative fancy for 
which he was so remarkably distinguished, than from any 
special regard, on my own part, to the truths he uttered ; 
that, from the commencement of the public services of the 
afternoon, to the close of the sacramental season which 
succeeded them, it seemed like a pleasing reverie ; and had 
all the effect of an occular survey of every scene connected 
with the humiliation and exaltation of the Saviour. So 
strong was the mental impression received, that I can still 
distinctly recollect, not only his text on that occasion — 
Rev. iv. 3, latter clause — but also the hymn with which 
the public services were introduced — H. 25, B. 1, Watts. 
He seemed to have taken his flight from one of the most 
elevated heights of meditation, and to soar in a climax of 
devotion, and sublimity of thought, until faith changed the 
heavenly vision into a reality, and spread all the glories of 
redemption around the consecrated symbols of Christ's 
death. ^ 

" I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at one 
of his last communion seasons with the church on earth. It 
was an affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was 
greatly enhanced by the nearness in which he seemed to 
stand to the communion of the church triumphant. His 
body was so emaciated with long and acute suffering, that 
it was scarcely able to sustain the effort once more imposed 
upon it ; but his soul, raised above its perishing influence, 
and filled with a joyful tranquility, seemed entirely regard- 
less of the weakness of its mortal tenement. His right hand 



396 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

and arm were so palsied by disease, as to be quite useless ; 
except that, in the act of breaking the bread, when he could 
not well dispense with it, he placed it on the table with the 
other hand, just as you raise any lifeless weight, until it had 
performed the service required of it. It seemed as if he 
was unwilling that even the withered hand should be found 
unemployed in the holy work. Truly, thought I, there must 
be a blessed reality in that religion, which can thus make 
the soul tranquil and happy, in the constant and rapid ad- 
vances of decay and death ! 

" I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more 
abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It- was, as he 
supposed, and as his church feared, their final interview at 
that table. In all the glowing fervor of devotion, assisted 
by his ever fertile imagination, he contemplated the Saviour 
as visibly present in the midst of them ; and, with his usual 
eloquence and closeness of appeal, he seemed to make each 
communicant feel, that what he had imagined was a reality. 
There was a breathless silence ; and the solemnity of the 
scene could hardly have been surpassed, if, as he expressed 
it, the Lord Jesus Christ were seen sitting before them ; or 
addressing to each individual member, the momentous in- 
quiry, 6 Lb'vest thou me ? ' I can say, for one, that the 
terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fearful, and the reali- 
ties of the judgment seat never seemed nearer, than at that 
solemn hour. And I trust that I and many others were then 
enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search 
me, G-od, &c. 

" From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of 
attending on Dr. Payson's administration of that ordinance, 
I can have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that 
supper of the Lamb, on whose more blessed celebration he 
so triumphantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momen- 
tous question, * 

1 Shall we, who sat with him below, 
Commune with him above ? ' " 

On the first of July, he attended public worship, and. 
after a sermon from his assistant, he rose and addressed his 
people thus : 



EDWARD PAYSON. 397 

" Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest 
wish, that I might die of some disease, -which would allow 
me to preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is 
not probable that I shall ever be able to do this, I will 
attempt to say a few words now : — it may be the last time 
that I shall ever address you. This is not merely a pre- 
sentiment. It is an opinion founded on facts, and main- 
tained by physicians acquainted with my case, that I shall 
never behold another spring. 

"And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, 
I look back on my past ministry, and on the manner in 
which I have performed its duties ; and, my hearers, if 
you have not performed your duties better than I have 
mine, wo! wo! be to you — unless you have an Advocate 
and Intercessor in heaven. We have lived together twenty 
years, and have spent more than a thousand Sabbaths 
together, and I have given you at least two thousand warn- 
ings. I am now going to render an account how they were 
given ; and you, my hearers, will soon have to render an 
account how they were received. One more warning I will 
give you. Once more, your shepherd, who will be yours no 
longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh, 
let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people attending 
to their eternal interests, that I may not have reason to 
say, I have labored in vain — I have spent my strength for 
naught." 

At the communion table, the same day, he said, 

" Christians seem to expect that their views of Christ, and 
love to him, will increase without their using the proper 
means. They should select some scene in his life, and med- 
itate long upon it, and strive to bring the circumstances 
before their minds, and imagine how he thought and felt at 
the time. At first, all will appear confused and indistinct ; 
but let them continue to look steadily, and the mists will 
disappear, and their hearts will begin to burn with love to 
their Saviour. At least one scene in Christ's life should be 
thus reviewed every day, if the Christian hopes to find his 
love to his Redeemer increase." 
34 



398 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

His public labors were now nearly over; but he was 
daily and hourly uttering something to rouse the careless, 
or for the instruction, edification, and comfort of God's 
children. 

To his daughter, who expressed a wish that labor as cer- 
tainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he 
said — "It does ; it is just as certain that prayers for spir- 
itual blessings will be answered, whenever God sees best, as 
that the husbandman, who sows his seed with proper pre- 
caution, will reap. The only reason that our endeavors to 
obtain spiritual blessings are not oftener attended with 
success, is, they are not made in earnest. Never omit 
prayer, or any devotional exercise, when the stated season 
for it arrives, because you feel indisposed to the duty." 

July 12th, 13th. On both these days, Dr. Payson seemed 
a little revived. He had tried sailing around the harbor, 
and found it beneficial. On repeating the experiment, how- 
ever, he discovered that, though these water excursions 
were of service to his lungs, they increased the paralytic 
affection — if such it was — in his arm, and they were 
relinquished. 

July 22d. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, " There 
is nothing in which young converts are more prone to err, 
than in laying too much stress upon their feelings. If they 
have a comfortable half hour in the morning, it atones for a 
multitude of sins in the course of the day. Christ says, ' If 
ye love me, keep my commandments.' It would be well for 
us to pay more attention to our conduct, and prove the 
depth of our feeling by our obedience." He also advised 
her to observe some plan with regard to reading on the 
Sabbath. In the morning he recommended reading the 
Scriptures exclusively, and afterwards, works intended to 
convey information respecting religious subjects. 

Aug. 5th. Sabbath. This day, he entered the meeting- 
house for the last time ; and this month completes twenty 
years, since he entered it, the first time, as a preacher — 
then a trembling youth, now the spiritual father of many 
hundreds ; then just girded for the warfare, now the veteran, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 399 

who had " fought the good fight," and was just going to 
resign his commission, and receive a crown of unfading 
glory. He made a great effort to go out, as there were 
twenty-one persons to be admitted to the church. He was 
supported into the house by his senior deacons ; and, 
although he merely read the covenant, and remained during 
the administration of the sacrament, he was exceedingly 
overcome. Most of the persons present were much affected, 
and, after the services, many crowded around him, to take 
his hand for the last time. 

Aug. 8th. He had a violent nervous headache ; and 
was much interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of breath- 
ing ; but said, in a cheerful voice, to some of his church who 
were in, " I. want you always to believe that God is faithful. 
However dark and mysterious any of his dispensations may 
appear, still confide in him. He can make you happy when 
every thing else is taken from you." Pie baptized several 
children at his own house, but the exertion was too much 
for him. 

Aug. loth. He received from a society of young men in 
his parish, who were associated for religious improvement, a 
letter, in which they generously offered to give his son a 
liberal education. The following is his answer : 

" To the Society for Religious Improvement. 
"Beloved Brethren: — 

" No act of kindness, which it was in the power of man to 
show, could have been more soothing to my anxieties as a 
dying parent, or more grateful to a dying minister, than 
your unexpected and most generous offer to furnish the 
means of a liberal education to my oldest son. 

" Most fervently do I thank you for making this offer, 
and the Author of all good for inducing you to do it. To 
see him thus already beginning to take care of a family, 
which I must soon leave, is a great encouragement to my 
faith, that he will continue to take care of them after I am 
gone. 

" If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have 
assisted to smooth your pastor's dying pillow, and shed light 
on his last hours, you may feel that satisfaction in a very 



400 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

high degree. With most earnest prayers that God would 
reward you abundantly for this kind offer, I have concluded 
to accept it, provided that my son, when he shall have 
attained the age of sixteen, shall be found to possess such a 
character as will justify a hope that he will make a good use 
of the advantages with which you generously furnish him. 
And now, brethren, farewell." 

During this month, his " wreck of being " was further 
shattered by a spasmodic cough, which at times threatened 
absolute strangulation. 

Sept. 4th. He said to his wife and daughter, " I do not 
think you are sufficiently thankful for my consolations, or 
realize how wonderful it is that I am thus supported. Owing 
to my natural activity, and unwillingness to be dependent on 
others for the supply of my wants, these trials are exactly 
those which are most calculated to make me miserable. But 
God can sweeten the bitterest cup." 

He afterwards said, with emotions which would hardly 
allow him to speak — " Oh, my daughter, how you will 
regret, when you come to see how good God is, that you did 
not serve him better. Oh ! he is so good, so good." 

Sept. 9th. During the preceding week, he had rode out 
several times, being carried down stairs, and lifted into the 
chaise. For a few days, he thought himself better ; but 
these favorable appearances w r ere of short duration. He 
remarked, that sometimes, in order to try his people's faith, 
God gives them a prospect that an affliction is about to be 
removed, and then permits it to return again. He compared 
his present case to that of a man, who, after having been a 
long time confined in prison, finds his door open one morn- 
ing ; but, on attempting to leave it, the door is suddenly 
closed with such violence, as to throw him prostrate on the 
floor. 

He was asked, on this day, by some of his friends, if he 
could see any particular reason for this dispensation. 
" No," replied he ; " but I am as well satisfied as if I could 
see ten thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all 



EDWARD PAYSON. 401 

In answer to the question, by a lady from B., Are you 
better than you were ? he replied, " Not in body, but in 
mind. If my happiness continues to increase, I cannot sup- 
port it much longer." On being asked, Are your views 
of heaven clearer and brighter than ever before ? he said, 
" Why, for a few moments, I may have had as bright ; but 
formerly my joys were tumultuous ; now all is calm and 
peaceful." He was asked, " In your anticipations of 
heaven, do you think of meeting departed friends ?" After 
a moment's reflection, he said, with a most expressive coun- 
tenance, " If I meet Christ, 't is no matter whether I see 
others or not — though I shall want some to help me praise 
him." He doubtless had an opinion on this subject ; but he 
remembered Christ's answer to the question, " Are there 
few that be saved ? " 

" God deals strangely with his creatures, to promote their 
happiness. Who would have thought that I must be reduced 
to this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest 
enjoyment ! " 

" You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy, who 
come here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." 
During the course of this conversation, he repeated this 
verse : " Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy 
moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting 
light, and the clays of thy mourning shall be ended." Turn- 
ing to a young lady present, he said, "Do you not think this 
is worth travelling over many high hills and difficult places to 
obtain?" "Give my love to my friends in Boston; tell 
them all I ever said in praise of God or religion, falls 
infinitely below the truth." 

u Dr. Clarke, in his travels, speaking of the companies 
that were travelling from the East to Jerusalem, represents 
the procession as being very long ; and, after climbing over 
the extended and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the 
way, some of the foremost at length reached the top of the 
last hill, and, stretching up their hands in gestures of joy, 
cried out, 'The Holy City! the Holy City!'— and fell 
down and worshipped ; while those who were behind pressed 
forward to see. So the dying Christian, when he gets on 

84* 



402 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the last summit of life, and stretches his vision to catch a 
glimpse of the heavenly city, may cry out of its glories, 
and incite those who are behind to press forward to the 
sight." 

To a clergyman — " Oh, if ministers only saw the incon- 
ceivable glory that is before them, and the preciousness of 
Christ, they would not be able to refrain from going about, 
leaping and clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, 
I 'in a minister of Christ ! I'ma minister of Christ ! " 

" When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, 
where the sun shines and the birds sing clay and night, I 
used to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my 
own experience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely 
transcends all my previous conceptions." 

" I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that enjoyed 
by glorified spirits before the resurrection." 

Sept. 16th. Sabbath. He awaked exclaiming, " I am 
going to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the 
heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, 
to the general assembly and church of the first born, and to 
God, the Judge of all." 

During the night of September 17th, he was seized with 
spasms, which, it seemed, must separate soul and body. It 
was not thought by his physician, that he could survive a 
second attack ; but his hold on life remained, though the 
spasms continued to return every succeeding night with 
more or less violence. Every new attack seemed, however, 
to strengthen the energies of his mind.* No better evidence 
of this can be desired, than is exhibited in a letter which he 
dictated to his sister: 

« September 19th. 

" Dear Sister, — 

"Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan,I 
might. date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I 
have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celes- 
tial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon rfte, its 
breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike 

* " The soul's dark cottage, shattered and decayed, 

Let in new light through chinks which time had made." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 403 

upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into rny heart. 
Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which 
now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed 
at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The 
Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer 
and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached, 
and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pouring forth a flood 
of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the 
beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I 
gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unut- 
terable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a 
sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem alto- 
gether inadequate to my wants ; I want a whole heart for 
every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that 
emotion. 

" But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings ? 
why not speak only of our God and Redeemer ? It is be- 
cause I know not what to say. When I would speak of 
them, my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you 
what effects their presence produces, and even of these I can 
tell you but very little. 0, my sister, my sister ! could you 
but know what awaits the Christian ; could you know only 
so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, 
and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles, would be 
nothing ; you would rejoice in afflictions, and glory in tribu- 
lations ; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in the 
darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have 
known a little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they 
have been neither few nor small ; and I hope this glorious 
termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and 
elevate your hope. 

" And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your 
Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet 
in heaven, 

" Your happy and affectionate brother, 

" Edward Payson." 

Sept. 21st. " 0, what a blessed thing it is to lose one's 
will ! Since I have lost my will, I have found happiness. 



404 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

There can be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I 
have no desires but that God's will may be accomplished." 

" I have been all my life like a child whose father wishes 
to fix his undivided attention. At first, the child runs about 
the room, but his father ties up his feet ; he then plays with 
his hands, until they likewise are tied. Thus he continues 
to do, till he is completely tied up ; then, when he can do 
nothing else, he will attend to his father. Just so God has 
been dealing with me, to induce me to place my happiness 
in him alone. But I blindly continue to look for it here, 
and God has kept cutting off one source of enjoyment after 
another, till I find that I can do without them all, and^ yet 
enjoy more happiness than ever in my life before." 

" It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is just for 
God to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely 
more." 

He was asked, " Do you feel reconciled ? " a O ! that 
is too cold. I rejoice — I triumph ! and this happiness will 
endure as long as God himself, for it consists in admiring 
and adoring him." 

" I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem 
to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me 
on to the great fountain." 

Sabbath morning, Sept. 23d, he said, " Last night I had 
a full, clear view of death as the king of terrors ; how he 
comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the 
precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down head- 
long ! But I felt that I had nothing to do with this ; and I 
loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who saved 
me from this fate. I felt that death was disarmed of all its 
terrors ; all he could do would be to touch me. and let my 
soul loose to go to my Saviour." 

" Christians are like passengers setting out together in a 
ship for some distant country. Very frequently one drops 
overboard ; but his companions know that he has only gone 
a shorter way to the same port ; and that, when they arrive 
there, they shall find him ; so that all they lose is his com- 
pany during the rest of the voyage." 

"I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to every 



EDWARD PAYSON. 405 

body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his own 
hands." 

" It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened ; 
and all its fulness and happiness, and, I trust, no small por- 
tion of its benevolence, is come down into my heart." 

" I am more and more convinced, that the happiness of 
heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy 
has increased, I have been filled with intense love to all 
creatures, and a strong desire that they might partake of 
my happiness." 

" Sept. 26th. In answer to some complaints of one of 
the family, he said, ' Perhaps there is nothing more trying 
to the faith and patience of Christians, or which appears to 
them more mysterious, than the small supplies of grace 
which they receive, and the delays which they meet with in 
having their prayers answered ; so that they are sometimes 
ready to say, It is in vain to wait upon the Lord any 
longer. He then mentioned the text, ' Wherefore gird up 
the loins of your minds, be sober, and hope to the end for 
the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of 
Jesus Christ.' A large portion of the grace which Chris- 
tians are to receive will be given to them at the second 
coming of Christ, or immediately after death ; and this will 
always be in proportion to their prayers and exertions here. 
Christians need not, therefore, be discouraged at the slow 
progress they make, and the little success which attends 
their efforts ; for they may be assured that every exertion 
is noticed, and will be rewarded, by their heavenly Father." 

To a young convert, he said : " You will have to go 
through many conflicts and trials ; you must be put in the 
furnace, and tempted, and tried, in order to show you what 
is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had 
you in his power, and that the more you struggle and pray 
against sin, the more it prevails against you. But when 
you are thus tried and desponding, remember me ; I have 
gone through all this, and now you sec the end." 

To another : " You recollect the story of David rescuing 
the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the lamb 
before he rescued it from danger ; but he loved it more 



406 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

afterwards. So Christ loves all his creatures ; but he loves 
them more after he has taken them into his fold, and owned 
them as the purchase of his precious blood." 

" Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, 
if they would only believe what they profess — that God is 
able to make them happy without any thing else. They 
imagine that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and 
such blessings to be removed, they should be miserable ; 
whereas God can make them a thousand times happier 
without them. To mention my own case — God has been 
depriving me of one blessing after another ; but, as every 
one was removed, he has come in and filled up its place ; 
and now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am 
happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expected 
to be, and, if I had believed this twenty years ago, I might 
have been spared much anxiety." 

" If God had told me some time ago, that he was about 
to make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then 
had told me that he should begin by crippling me in all my 
limbs, and removing me from my usual source of enjoyment, 
I should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplish- 
ing his purpose. And yet, how is his wisdom manifest even 
in this ! for if you should see a man shut up in a close room, 
idolizing a set of lamps, and rejoicing in their light, and you 
wished to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing- 
out all his lamps ; and then throw open the shutters, to let 
in the light of heaven." 

" Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whose wis- 
dom he places the most entire confidence. He follows 
wherever his father leads, though it may be through thorns 
and briars, cheerfully and contentedly. Another son, we 
will suppose, distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, 
when the path is rough or uneven, begins to murmur and 
repine, wishing that he might be allowed to choose his owl 
path ; and though he is obliged to follow, it is with great 
reluctance and discontent. Now, the reason that Christians 
in general do not enjoy more of God's presence, is, that they 
are not willing to walk in his path, when it crosses their own 
inclinations. But we shall never be happy, until we acqui- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 407 

esce with perfect cheerfulness in all his decisions, and follow 
wherever he leads without a murmur." 

After it had become certain that he would never again 
leave his chamber till he was carrried out, yet, being un- 
ceasingly desirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, 
which was announced from the pulpit, that they would repair 
to his chamber. Once, it is believed, they came indiscrim- 
inately ; at other times in specified classes, including as many 
as the chamber could contain. When he had addressed to 
them collectively his last, most solemn and affectionate coun- 
sel, till compelled to desist by the failure of his strength, he 
took them individually by the hand, and, with a heavenly 
smile, bade them farewell ! 

To the members of his congregation, he spoke nearly as 
follows : 

" It has often been remarked, that people who have been 
into the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they 
have seen ; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can 
see almost as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough 
to satisfy myself, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which 
I have preached. I do not know that I should feel at all 
surer, had I been really there. 

" It is always interesting to see others in a situation in 
which we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves ; 
and we all know that we must die. And to see a poor crea- 
ture, when, after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds 
that his disease is mortal, and death comes to tear him away 
from every thing he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to 
the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then 
thrusts him down headlong ! — There he is, cast into an un- 
known world ; no friend, no Saviour to receive him. 

" 0, how different is this from the state of a man who is 
prepared to die. He is not obliged to be crowded reluc- 
tantly along ; but the other world comes like a great magnet, 
to draw him away from this ; and he knows that he is going 
to enjoy — and not only knows, but begins to taste it — 
perfect happiness ; for ever and ever ; for ever and ever ! 
" And now God is in this room ; I see 
him ; and 0, how unspeakably lovely and glorious does he 



408 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

appear — worthy of ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had 
them. He is here, and hears me pleading with the creatures 
that he has made, whom he preserves, and loads with bless- 
ings, to love him. And 0, how terrible does it appear to 
me, to sin against this God ; to set up our wills in opposition 
to his, and, when we awake in the morning, instead of think- 
ing, ' What shall I do to please my God to-day ? ' to in- 
quire, ' What shall I do to please myself to-day? ' " After 
a short pause he continued : " It makes my blood run cold 
to think how inexpressibly miserable I should now be without 
religion. To lie here, and see myself tottering on the verge 
of destruction ! — 0,1 should be distracted ! And when I 
see my fellow-creatures liable every moment to be reduced 
to this situation, I am in an agony for them, that they may 
escape their danger before it be too late. When people 
repent, they begin to see God's infinite perfections, how 
amiable and glorious he is, and the heart relents and mourns 
that it has treated him so ungratefully. 

" Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice 
pleading earnestly with some one, but could not distinguish 
the words ; and we should inquire, 6 What is that man plead- 
ing for so earnestly ? ' ' 0, he is only pleading with a 
fellow- creature to love his God, his Saviour, his Preserver 
and Benefactor. He is only pleading with him not to throw 
away his immortal soul, not to pull down everlasting wretch- 
edness upon his own head. He is only persuading him to 
avoid eternal misery, and to accept eternal happiness.' ' Is 
it possible,' we should exclaim, ' that any persuasion can be 
necessary for this ? ' and yet it is necessary. my friends, 
do, do love this glorious Being — do seek for the salvation 
of your immortal souls. Hear the voice of your dying min- 
ister, while he entreats you to care for your souls." 

He afterwards said — "I am always sorry when I say 
any thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so inadequate 
to what I wish to express. The words sink right down 
under the weight of the meaning I wish to convey." 

On another occasion — " I find no satisfaction in looking 
at any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this behind — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 409 

it is nothing — and fly to Christ to be clothed in his right- 
eousness." 

Again — "I have done nothing myself. I have not 
fought, but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, but 
Christ has carried me ; I have not worked, but Christ has 
wrought in me ; — Christ has done all." 

The perfections of God were to him a well-spring of joy, 
and the promises were "breasts of consolation," whence his 
soul drew its comfort 'and its aliment. " !" exclaimed 
he, " the loving kindness of God — his loving kindness! 
This afternoon, while I was meditating on it, the Lord 
seemed to pass by, and proclaim himself ' The Lord, the 
Lord God, merciful and gracious ! ' how gracious ! Try 
to conceive of that, his loving kindness, as if it were not 
enough to say kindness, but — loving kindness. What 
must be the loving kindness of God, who is himself infinite 
love ! " 

" It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ' You 
have often wondered and been impatient at the way by which 
I have led you ; but what do you think of it now ? ' And I 
was cut to the heart, when I looked back and saw the wis- 
dom and goodness by which I had been guided, that I could 
ever for a moment distrust his love." 

A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr. Payson 
about this stage of his illness, gave the following account of 
the interview, in a letter to a friend : 

" His eye beams with the same animation as ever. The 
muscles of his face are unaffected by that which has spread 
all but death throughout the other parts of his system. 
When I entered the chamber, addressing me with a smile, 
he said, ' I have no hand to welcome you with, but I am 
glad to see you.' I observed to him, that I was reluctant 
to lay any tax upon him in his present weak state, but had 
felt desirous to see him a moment. He replied that he did 
not feel parsimonious of the poor remains of strength he had 
left : he had got so near through, that it was not worth 
while to be solicitous about saving for future time. He con- 
versed in a low, audible voice, and in the same strain of 
pointed, pithy remark, as when in health. He observed, 

85 



410 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

that the point in which he believed ministers generally failed 
most, and in which he had certainly failed most, was in doing 
duty professionally, and not from the heart. I could not 
but say to him, that, probably, his practice had been marked 
with less of this error than that of most others. He seemed 
pained with the thought that any should be more deficient 
than he had been : '0, I hope it is not so ! I hope it is not 
so ! ' Referring to the peace which the gospel afforded him 
under his trials, he said, ' I have never half valued, as I 
ought, the doctrines which I have preached. The system is 
great and glorious, and is worthy of our utmost efforts to 
promote it. The interests depending will justify' us in our 
strongest measures. In every respect we may embark our 
all upon it ; it will sustain us.' * * 

" Speaking of the temper requisite to the right discharge 
of ministerial duty, he said, ' I never was fit to say a word 
to a sinner, except when I had a broken heart myself; when 
I was subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though 
I had just received pardon to my own soul, and when my 
heart was full of tenderness and pity — no anger, no anger/ 
He expressed himself with great earnestness respecting the 
grace of God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed 
particularly affected that it should be bestowed on one so ill 
deserving as himself. ' 0, how sovereign ! 0, how sov- 
ereign ! Grace is the only thing that can make us like God. 
I might be dragged through heaven, earth and hell, and I 
should be still the same sinful, polluted wretch, unless God 
himself should renew and cleanse me.' He inquired whether 
I could preach to his people on the morrow. Being told that 
I was not well, he replied, ' Then do not preach ; I have too 
often preached when I was not able.' 

M On taking leave, I expressed a hope that he might con- 
tinue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even in- 
creasing peace, if he could bear it. ' Oh I ' said he, ' when 
we meet in heaven, we shall see how little we know about 
it.' His whole manner and appearance is that of a man 
who has drunk into the spirit of heaven far more deeply than 
those around him." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 411 

On Sabbath day, October 7th,* it was the privileged lot 
of the young men of the society to assemble, at his request, 
in his chamber, when he addressed them in substance as 
follows : 

" My young friends, you will all one day be obliged to 
embark on the same voyage, on which I am just embarking ; 
and as it has been my especial employment, during my past 
life, to recommend to you a Pilot to guide you through this 
voyage, I wished to tell you what a precious Pilot he is, 
that you may be induced to choose him for yours. I felt 
desirous that you might see that the religion I have preached 
can support me in death. You know that I have many ties 
which bind me to earth — a family to whom I am strongly 
attached, and a people whom I love almost as well — but 
the other world acts like a much stronger magnet, and draws 
my heart away from this. Death comes every night, and 
stands by my bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, 
every one of which threatens to separate the soul from the 
body. These continue to grow worse and worse, until every 
bone is almost dislocated with pain, leaving me with the cer- 
tainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next night. 
Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly, 
perfectly happy and peaceful — more happy than I can pos- 
sibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions 
extending higher and higher, without the least uneasiness ; 
but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim 
in a flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I 
know, I know, that my happiness is but begun ; I cannot 
doubt that it will last for ever. And now, is this all a delu- 
sion ? Is it a delusion which can fill the soul to overflowing 
with joy in such circumstances ? If so, it is surely a delu- 
sion better than any reality. But no, it is not a delusion ; I 
feel that it is not. I do not merely know that I shall enjoy 
all this — I enjoy it noiv. 

" My young friends — were I master of the whole world, 
what could it do for me like this ? Were all its wealth at 

* The dates in this chapter fix the time to which a part only of his obser- 
vations must be referred ; generally the first, or first two or three paragraphs, 
which follow them. The precise date of most of them is not recollected. 



412 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

my feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, 
what could they do for me ? Nothing ! — nothing. Now, 
all this happiness I trace back to the religion which I have 
preached, and at the time when that great change took place 
in my heart, which I have often told you is necessary to sal- 
vation ; and I now tell you again, that without this change, 
you cannot, no, you cannot, see the kingdom of God. 

" And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which sepa- 
rates the two worlds, feeling what intense happiness or misery 
the soul is capable of sustaining ; judging of your capacities 
by my own, and believing that those capacities will be filled 
to the very brim with joy or wretchedness for ever ; can it 
be wondered at, that my heart yearns over you, my children, 
that you may choose life, and not death ? Is it to be won- 
dered at, that I long to present every one of you with a full 
cup of happiness, and see you drink it ; that I long to have 
you make the same choice which I made, and from which 
Bprings all my happiness ? 

u A young man, just about to leave this world, exclaimed, 
4 The battle's fought! the battle's fought! the battle's 
fought ! but the victory is lost for ever.' But I can say, 
The battle's fought, and the victory is won ! the victory is 
won, for ever ! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, 
and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity. And now, 
my children, let me bless you ; not with the blessing of a 
poor, feeble, dying man, but with the blessing of the infinite 
God. The grace of God, and the love of Christ, and the 
communion of the Holy Ghost, be with all, and each one of 
you, for ever and ever : amen." 

Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among 
his own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother, to bear 
one to the association of ministers, who were to meet in a 
few days. The purport of it was — " a hearty assurance of 
the ardent love with which he remembered them even in 
death ; an exhortation to love one another with a pure heart 
fervently ; to love their work, to be diligent in it, to expect 
success, to bear up under their discouragements, be faithful 
unto death, and look for their reward in heaven." I rejoice, 
said the brother, rejoice more than I can express, to be the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 413 

bearer of such a message ; for you, perhaps, are aware that 
many of your brethren have thought you distant, and re- 
served, and as having cherished too little of a fellow-feeling 
towards them. " I know it," said he ; " but my apparent 
reserve was not owing to any want of affection for them, but 
to a very different cause ; I have been all my days, like a 
soldier in the forefront of the hottest battle, so intent in 
fighting for my own life, that I could not see who was falling 
around me" 

While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the 
heavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like 
the clear light of vision, rather than that of faith. " Oh ! " 
he replied, "I don't know — it is too much for the poor 
eyes of my soul to bear ! — they are almost blinded with the 
excessive brightness. All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect 
some of those rays to those around me." 

" My soul, instead of growing weaker and more languish- 
ing, as my body does, seems to be endued with an angel's 
energies, and to be ready to break from the body, and join 
those around the throne." 

A friend, with whom he had been conversing on his ex- 
treme bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked, 
" I presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, 
that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and 
on the rack." " No," said he, " I can easily believe it. I 
have suffered twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds — 
twenty times as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, 
while my joy in God so abounded, as to render my sufferings 
not only tolerable, but welcome. The sufferings of this pre- 
sent time are not ivorthy to be compared with the glory that 
shall be revealed." 

At another time — " God is literally now my all in all. 
While he is present with me, no event can in the least 
diminish my happiness ; and were the whole w T orld at my 
feet, trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add 
one drop to the cup." 

" It seems as if the promise, ' God shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, as it 
35* 



414 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but 
those of love, and joy, and thankfulness." 

Oct. 16th. To his daughter — " You will avoid much 
pain and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all your concerns 
in God's hand. ' Cast all your care upon him, for he careth 
for you.' But if you merely go and say that you cast your 
care upon him, you will come away with the load on your 
shoulders. If I had the entire disposal of your situation, 
and could decide how many scholars you should have, and 
what success you should meet with, you would feel no 
anxiety, but would rely on my love and wisdom ; and if you 
should discover any solicitude, it would show that you dis- 
trusted one or the other of these. Now all your concerns 
are in the hands of a merciful and wise Father; therefore, 
it is an insult to him to be careful and anxious concerning 
them. Trust him for all — abilities, success, and every thing 
else — and you will never have reason to repent it." At one 
time, he was heard to break forth in the following soliloquy : 

" What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the 
gospel present ! I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I 
am a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all through 
grace, and by the most wonderful means which infinite wis- 
dom could devise. I am a Christian — what then ? Why, 
I am a temple of God, and surely I ought to be pure and 
holy. I am a Christian — what then ? I am a child of 
God, and ought to be filled with filial love, reverence, joy, 
and gratitude. I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I 
am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate him who was meek 
and lowly in heart, and pleased not himself. I am a Chris- 
tian — what then? Why, I am an heir of heaven, and 
hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join the full 
choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses and the 
Lamb; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth." 

To Mrs. Payson, Avho, while ministering to him, had ob- 
served, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," 
he replied, " It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow 
prison, and was determined to break through with an angel's 
energy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's 
feeling, until it mounts on high." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 415 

Again — "It seems as if my soul had found a pair of 
new wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her 
fluttering, she would rend the fine net-work of the body to 
pieces." 

At another time — " My dear, I should think it might 
encourage and strengthen you, under whatever trials you 
may be called to endure, to remember me. ! you must 
believe that it will be great peace at last." 

At another time, he said to her : " After I am gone, you 
will find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon 
you, and you will perhaps say, ' I wish my dear husband 
were here to know this.' My dear, you may think that I 
do know it by anticipation, and praise God for it now." 

"Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright 
indeed, but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is com- 
ing nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and 
glorious, that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to 
sustain." This was not a blind adoration of an imaginary 
deity ; for, added he, "I see clearly that all these same 
glorious and dazzling perfections, which now only serve to 
kindle my affections into a flame, and to melt down my 
soul into the same blessed image, would burn and scorch 
me like a consuming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner." 

He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family ; he 
could trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any 
undue solicitude on their account, or to be unwilling to leave 
them with God, would be like " a child who was reluctant to 
go to school, lest his father should burn up his toys and play- 
things, while he was absent." 

Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his de- 
parture, he compared himself to " a person who had been 
visiting his friends, and was about to return home. His 
trunk was packed, and every thing prepared, and he was 
looking out of the window, waiting for the stage to take 
him in." 

When speaking of the sufferings he endured, particularly 
the sensation of burning in his side and left leg, he said that, 
if he expected to live long enough to make it worth while, ho 
would have his leg taken off. On Mrs. Payson's uttering 



416 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

some expression of surprise, he replied, " I have not a very 
slight idea of the pain of amputation ; jet I have no doubt 
that I suffer more every fifteen minutes, than I should in 
having my leg taken off." 

His youngest child, about a year old, had been under the 
care of a friend, and was to be removed a few miles out of 
town ; but he expressed so strong a wish to see Charles first, 
that he was sent for. The look of love, and tenderness, and 
compassion, with which he regarded the children, made an 
indelible impression on all present. 

At his request, some of the choir, belonging to the congre- 
gation, came a few days before his death, for the purpose of 
singing, for his gratifications, some of the songs of Zion. 
He selected the one commencing, " Rise, my soul, and 
stretch thy wings;" part of the hymn, "I'll praise my 
Maker with my breath ; " and the " Dying Christian to his 
Soul." 

Sabbath clay, October 21st, his last agony commenced. 
This holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, 
" These are God's arrows, but they are all sharpened with 
love " — and who, in the extremity of suffering, had been 
accustomed to repeat, as a favorite expression, " I will bless 
the Lord at all times" — had yet the "dying strife" to 
encounter. It commenced with the same difficulty of respi- 
ration, though in an aggravated degree, which had caused 
him great distress at intervals, during his sickness. His 
daughter, who had gone to the Sabbath school, without any 
apprehensions of so sudden a change, was called home. 
Though laboring for breath, and with a rattling in the throat 
similar to that which immediately precedes dissolution, he 
smiled upon her, kissed her affectionately, and said, " God 
bless you, my daughter ! " Several of the church were 
soon collected at his bedside ; he smiled on them all, but 
said little, as his power of utterance had nearly failed. Once 
he exclaimed, "Peace! peace! Victory! victory!" He 
looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in the 
words of dying Joseph to his brethren — words which he had 
before spoken of as having a peculiar sweetness,, and which 
he now wished to recall to her mind — "I am going, but 



EDWARD PAYSON. 417 

God will surely be with you." His friends watched him, 
expecting every moment to see him expire, till near noon, 
when his distress partially left him ; and he said to the phy- 
sician, who was feeling his pulse, that he found he was not 
to be released yet ; and though he had suifered the pangs 
of death, and got almost within the gates of Paradise — yet, 
if it was God's will that he should come back and suffer still 
more, he was resigned. He passed through a similar scene 
in the afternoon, and, to the surprise of every one, was 
again relieved. The night following, he suffered less than 
he had the two preceding. Friday night had been one of 
inexpressible suffering. That, and the last night of his pil- 
grimage, were the only nights in which he had watchers. 
The friend who attended him through his last night, read 
to him, at his request, the twelfth chapter of the second 
epistle to the Corinthians ; parts of which must have been 
peculiarly applicable to his case. 

On Monday morning, his dying agonies returned in all 
their extremity. For three hours, every breath was a groan. 
On being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the 
preceding Friday night, he answered, " Incomparably 
greater." He said that the greatest temporal blessing, of 
which he could conceive, would be one breath of air. Mrs. 
Pa3^son, fearing, from the expression of suffering in his coun- 
tenance, that he was in mental as well as bodily anguish, 
questioned him on the subject. With extreme difficulty he 
was enabled to articulate the words, " Faith and patience 
hold out." About mid-day, the pain of respiration abated, 
and a partial stupor succeeded. Still, however, he contin- 
ued intelligent, and evidently able to recognize all who were 
present. His eyes spoke, after his tongue became motion- 
less, lie looked on Mrs. Payson, and then his eye, 
glancing over the others who surrounded his bed, rested on 
Edward, his eldest son, with an expression which said — and 
which was interpreted by all present to say, as plainly as if 
he had uttered the words of the beloved disciple — " Behold 
thy mother ! " There was no visible indication of the return 
of his sufferings. He gradually sunk away, till about the 



418 THE EMIXEXT DEAD. 

going down of the sun, when his happy spirit was set at 
liberty. 

His " ruling passion was strong in death." His love for 
preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, 
who dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a 
label to be attached to his breast, with the words : Remem- 
ber the w:>rds which I spake unto you while I was yet pre- 
sent with you ; that they might be read by all who came to 
look at his corpse, and by which he, being dead, still spake. 
The same words, at the request of his people, were engraven 
on the plate of the coffin, and read by thousands on the day 
of interment. 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 

The subject of the following sketch was born at Somers, 
New York, July 30th, 1794. His father was a pious phy- 
sician of extensive practice, and both parents were especially 
faithful in inculcating, by precept and example, the value 
and necessity of good morals and experimental piety, upon 
the youthful mind of their only son. In 1810, at (he age of 
sixteen, with an intelligent and peculiarly active mind, and 
with a superior preparation, he entered the sophomore class 
in Yale College. He remained in college, pursuing his reg- 
ular studies with great success, a thoughtless, impenitent 
and somewhat reckless young man, until in his senior year, 
in a revival in the institution., he was powerfully convicted 
of sin, became sincerely penitent, experienced a clear and 
evident change of heart, and connected himself with the 
church. His subsequent life tested the genuineness of the 
work of grace upon his heart. Upon his graduation, he 



ELTAS CORNELIUS. 419 

commenced the study of theology, under Dr. D wight. 
During his course of theological study, Mr. Cornelius having 
made an entire consecration of his services to his Master, 
sought, in every way, opportunities for usefulness among the 
under graduates in college, and in the surrounding villages. 
Thus writes one, who was then a member of the institution 
of his devotedness : 

" The piety of Mr. Cornelius was of the active kind. He 
felt for the souls of those young men whose skepticism, if 
not infidelity, recalled to mind his own former life when 
' without God and without hope in the world.' In some of 
our usual or stated prayer meetings, attended by Mr. In- 
gersoll, and a few other pious students, who are now useful 
ministers of the gospel, a proposal was made for renewed 
and increased exertion on the part of Christians in behalf of 
the fearful state of impenitent students. I cannot, at this 
distant period of eighteen years, state by whom this propo- 
sition was made, but as we looked to brother Cornelius as a 
leader in those meetings, I am induced to attribute it to him. 
We accordingly agreed to meet at an early hour in the 
morning, before prayers in the chapel. In a short time, 
students began to feel anxious. This awakened our hopes, 
encouraged our prayers, and greatly increased the zeal and 
warmth of Mr. C's exhortations ; indeed in such a manner 
as I shall never forget. Though our acquaintance con- 
tinued at intervals until his death, still there is scarcely a 
period of his life so vividly printed on my memory, as when 
he addressed us in these prayer meetings and conferences, 
with those soul-stirring appeals for which he was so peculiarly 
gifted. I well recollect one very cold night, in which wc 
walked nearly half a mile from college, at the early hour of 
three o'clock, to a private room to pray, and I have always 
remembered that morning as one of the happiest I ever en- 
joyed. It was truly a season in w T hich heaven seemed to be 
let down to earth, and to adopt his language at the time, 
1 The foundations of college began to tremble.' Mr. Inger- 
soll, with two or three other excellent young men, com- 



420 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

menced visiting from room to room, and scarcely a room 
did they enter, in which there was not found at least one 
awakened sinner. Some infidels fastened their doors, deter- 
mined to shut out visitors and conviction. But the Spirit of 
the Lord reached them, and compelled them, not only to 
open their doors, but also their hearts, to receive the truth. 
For a number of days we were scarcely able to study or 
recite at all. So universal was the excitement that it was 
believed there were not more than three or four students in 
college, who were not more or less impressed with concern 
for the soul. 

" About eighty were numbered as fruits of the revival in 
in the institution, besides many other persons in the city. 
Though a number afterwards gave reason to believe they 
had deceived themselves, yet it was a glorious revival, and 
many will for ever bless God that Cornelius was there, and 
labored for their salvation." 

His biographer, referring to his earnest desire to do good, 
says of him : 

" In the course of this year, Mr. Cornelius resided for a 
number of weeks at Fairhaven, a village in the vicinity of 
New Haven, Ct. The people of the place were destitute of 
the regular preaching of the gospel, and had severely suffered 
in consequence of that destitution. It was a field demand- 
ing diligent and laborious cultivation. The main object of 
Mr. Cornelius in resorting to this village was to secure an 
opportunity for retired reading and study. But the circum- 
stances of the people called forth his sympathy, his earnest 
prayers and efforts. God was pleased to bless his labors 
with the influence of the Holy Spirit. Many were awakened 
from the death of sin, and a considerable number were made 
new creatures in Christ Jesus. The whole aspect of the 
village was changed. The fruits of holiness abounded to the 
glory of God. The labors of his young servant were also 
remembered with ardent gratitude. Even to this day, indi- 
viduals are found in that village who testify to his great love 
to them for Jesus' sake. 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 421 

" Many readers of these pages will be filled with admira- 
tion, we doubt not, at the extraordinary activity which Mr. 
Cornelius manifested, from the first, in the service of his 
divine Master. ' He could not but speak the things which 
he had seen and heard.' The whole current of his soul was 
turned into one channel — the conversion of all mankind to 
Christ. For twenty years he pursued this object with unde- 
viating purpose. The vacations, which other students spent 
in amusement, or in simple relaxation from study, were to 
him harvest seasons, in which souls were gathered for Christ. 
In one of these vacations, he succeeded in forming a tem- 
perance society on the principle, and with the formal pledge, 
of entire abstinence from the use of ardent spirit. This was 
as early as 1814 — 15, a period when the deluge of intem- 
perance was at its height, and when the friends of good order 
were trying to arrest its ravages by inducing men to report 
every year how much ardent spirits had been consumed in 
their families ! The association, which Mr. Cornelius was 
instrumental in forming, was highly useful. During another 
of these vacations, he surveyed the whole country between 
the Hudson river and the State of Connecticut, for the pur- 
pose of ascertaining its moral condition. At a later day, 
and near the time of the formation of the American Bible 
Society, he succeeded in establishing, amidst much obloquy 
and opposition, an auxiliary association in Putnam county, 
New York." 

In 1815, he closed his residence in New Haven, and re- 
moved to Litchfield, Connecticut, to enjoy the instructions 
of the Rev. Dr. Beecher. His active piety was exhibited 
here, as in his former residence, in his personal exertions for 
the salvation of all that came within the circle of his influ- 
ence. July 4th, 1816, Mr. Cornelius was licensed to 
preach, by the South Association of Congregational Minis- 
ters, in Litchfield County, and was at once sent forth upon 
an important mission. Few young preachers have begun 
under more promising auspices ; fewer, perhaps, would have 
36 



422 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

borne their successes with so much humility and piety. 
Says an intelligent Christian man of him at this time : 

"In the year 1816, soon after Mr. Cornelius became a 
preacher, he received a commission, to solicit benefactions 
for foreign missions. Under this commission he preached 
with great acceptance, in several places in the north-western 
parts of Connecticut. Many individuals went from town to 
town to hear him ; some of them exclaiming, ' he is a second 
Whitefield.' It was my privilege to listen to him at Norfolk. 
His text was Psalm lxxiv. 20. 4 The dark places of the earth 
are full of the habitations of cruelty.' His discourse was in 
itself excellent. He gave a most striking account of the 
wickedness and woes of heathenism. His manner was still 
better. Without any appearance of wild-fire, he was wholly 
inflamed with his subject. Soon the flame seemed to spread 
through the house, and kindle every hearer. The effect 
was most happy. The people contributed much more than 
he requested. Still his discourse was probably less instruc- 
tive, and less useful, than if it had been more regularly 
arranged, and more accurately composed. And now the 
question with me was, Shall I tell my young brother of his 
defects ? Can I expect that thus borne onward by such a 
tide and torrent of popularity, he will be willing to stop and 
listen to chilling criticisms from me, upon points of compar- 
atively small importance? I concluded, however, that if 
my counsel should be rejected, the evil would be trifling ; 
that if accepted, the advantage might be considerable. 
Rousing up all my courage, therefore, I told him my whole 
heart. Never could I wish any pupil to listen with more re- 
spectful and earnest docility, or greater desire to profit to 
the utmost by every remark. This was sufficient to win my 
heart. But this was not all. At the conclusion, he mani- 
festly felt more gratitude than he could express. Such was 
the basis of our friendship — a friendship which continued 
rising and consolidating till the day of his death — a 
friendship, which I hope, is destined to flourish and ripen 
forever.' ' 

Within less than six months he succeeded in collecting 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 423 



four thousand dollars, having preached one hundred and 
thirty-six times, and formed seventy auxiliary missionary 
societies. In the latter part of this year, preparations were 
made by the Board for the establishment of a mission among 
the South-western Indians, and Mr. Cornelius was appointed 
the special agent to collect the necessary funds. He imme- 
diately entered upon his work, visiting the large Atlantic 
cities; spending some time in Washington to obtain the co- 
operation and assistance of the government. He then com- 
menced a long South-western tour, passing through Virginia 
and Tennessee ; and then entered into the Cherokee territory, 
remaining some time at Brainerd, the seat of the Cherokee 
Mission, arranging the affairs of the Mission, and conciliating 
the chiefs. He then visited New Orleans, where he remained 
several months, pained at heart to witness the dreadful spir- 
itual desolation around him; a city containing 30,000 souls, 
and then having but one protestant minister within its 
limits. He commenced the most active exertions among 
the few sincere Christians of different denominations, and 
among gentlemen professing no religion ; and before he left, 
he had the satisfaction of seeing a highly talented and pious 
young man called by a number of respectable and wealthy 
persons to preach in a house, which they had taken imme- 
diate measures to erect. 

During his stay in this city, Mr. Cornelius suffered no 
opportunity to pass, for benefiting the souls of the thousands 
around him, but devoted himself to the visiting of hospitals, 
seeking out the neglected and suffering, and instituting char- 
itable societies. On the eve of his departure from New 
Orleans, he presented the claims of Foreign Missions, and 
obtained the generous sum of more than one thousand 
dollars. Upon his return to the North, having effected the 
immediate object of his agency, he remained a year in An- 



424 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

dover, where he married, and availed himself of several 
courses of valuable theological lectures, delivered in the 
Seminary, to increase his acquaintance with Biblical science. 
In 1820, he was installed an associate pastor with the Rev. 
Dr. Worcester, over the Tabernacle church in Salem, Mass. 

Into his new, interesting and most responsible field of labor 
Mr. C. entered, with all his heart. By faithful and fervent 
preaching, by visiting from house to house, by careful atten- 
tion to the lambs of the fold, by peculiar interest in the 
youths that frequented his ministry, Mr. Cornelius magnified 
his office, built up the church, and endeared himself to the 
religious community in an unusual degree. A great revival 
attended his labors, and one hundred were added to the 
church. 

In his labors for others, like too many, Mr. C. did not 
forget his own household. His disposition was perhaps nat- 
urally amiable, but grace had greatly sweetened it. His 
intercourse with the dear circle of his own beloved family, 
was eminently delightful and devotional. His" presence was 
the charm of his home, and his wife and children were as 
deeply impressed with the sincerity of his religious profession 
as those that witnessed his public labors. 

" The impression which he uniformly gave his children, 
and intimate friends, was that the design of the family insti- 
tution, as well as of all human friendships, is to lead the soul 
to God, and to the fellowship of heaven. Religion was the 
guiding motive of his domestic government. He did not fall 
into the error of some Christian parents, who, while the}' 
refrain from instilling into the minds of their children a 
desire for riches or for honorable connections, fill their youth- 
ful bosoms with the idea that human learning and intellec- 
tual distinctions are of more importance than .Christianity 
itself — parents who seem to make the development of their 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 425 

children's intellects their only aim. Mr. Cornelius, while 
he attached all due importance to mental endowment and 
cultivation, sought for his children ' first of all the kingdom 
of God and his righteousness.' He did not copy the common 
and fatal mistake, that religious education must be postponed 
till the child has arrived at the period of youth or manhood. 
On the birth of one of his children, he consecrated him to 
Christ audibly, and in a most affecting manner — an act of 
dedication so marked and so solemn, that it produced a per- 
manent impression on all who witnessed it. In the behalf, 
and in the presence of his children, he offered to God such 
prayer, as without doubt came up from the depths of a pa- 
rent's heart, anxious beyond the power of expression, for the 
everlasting happiness of his children — such prayer as * pen- 
etrates the heavens,' and is heard by him who ' keepeth 
covenant and remembereth mercy.' He acted on the great 
truth, that the human mind and the human conscience are 
active, before the thoughts and feelings can be expressed by 
the medium of language. When he could discover by the 
color on the cheek, by the expression in the eye, or by the 
passionate exclamation, that there was a feeling of uneasiness 
in the bosom of his children, arising from moral causes, that 
there was a faint, feeble testimony of conscience that they 
had done improper actions, or were the subjects of improper 
feelings, then he was conscious that an education was com- 
mencing, which was to go on for ever — that a train of influ- 
ences was to be laid, which would end in glory or in woe 
eternal. He manifested little of that foolish indulgence, that 
misplaced and miscalled tenderness, which has been the ruin 
of not a few promising children. At the same time, there 
was no tyrannical exercise of authority, or rigorous family 
government. There was that sweet union of firmness and 
mildness, which shows that perfect domestic discipline is 
36* 



426 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

consistent with the highest degree of affection for children, 
or rather is inconsistent and incompatible ■with the want 
of it. 

" He was remarkably opportune in giving religious instruc- 
tion to his household. There are times in the life of almost 
every child, when it shows peculiar affection for its father or 
mother, when from some unexplained causes, all the little 
fountains of joy and love in its bosom are sending out their 
streams to bless a parent's heart. Such opportunities Mr. 
Cornelius gratefully seized to communicate some religious 
truth, or to awaken some pious emotion, and thus lead the 
infant mind directly to its Creator and Redeemer." 

Two letters to his little son, are here appended : 

" Augusta, Maine. 
" My dear son E. — Your papa often thinks of you, and 
M., and T., and little E., as he goes about the country. He 
would love to live more at home with you, and see you, and 
talk with you, every day. But your papa hopes he is the 
servant of Christ, of whom you have so often heard him and 
mamma speak, and Christ says that we must love him and 
serve him above every one else ; and be willing to go any 
where, and suffer any thing, for his sake. Now you know, 
that there are a great many people in the world, who have 
no one to tell them about God, and that good Saviour ; and 
your papa is trying hard to educate a great many ministers, 
who may go and preach as he used to do in Salem. This is 
the reason, my dear E., why your father cannot stay at 
home more, and why he sometimes has to travel all night, 
when you are asleep, and warm in your bed. But Christ is 
so great and good, and he has suffered and done so much for 
poor and sinful men, that we can never do too much, or deny 
ourselves too much for him. Should you not like to have a 
good education, and one day, go and preach about Christ, 
and tell poor ignorant persons how they may be saved, and 
go to heaven when they die ? Oh ! how papa would love to 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 427 

have you. And now if you will be good, and love God and 
Christ with all your heart, more a great deal than you love 
any one else, you may be a minister, and do more good than 
you could in any other way. I hope you think much of 
God, and pray and read the Bible. I hope that you will set 
an example to all the other children, and help your mother 
by being very kind and obliging. I shall be happy when I 
come home, to hear that you have been a good boy, in 
school and out of school. 

" Looking on the map, you will see where I now am. 
Augusta is a pretty town, on the bank of a beautiful river, 
called the Kennebec. I have been to Waterville, where 
there are two college buildings like those at Andover. You 
must read, and then you will know much about these and 
other places where I go." 

" James River , Virginia. 
w My dear son E. — If you will look on the map for Vir- 
ginia, and then for James river, at the spot called James- 
town, where you remember the first settlers of North 
America came on the 15th of May, 1607, you will see 
where I am, while I write to you. I am in the steamboat 
Norfolk, which is passing up the river to Richmond. I have 
just been on deck to see the place where the first trees in 
this great western world were cut down by white men, and 
where the first houses were built. You can ask your 
mamma to give you a book in which you can read again the 
whole history, so that you may tell me all about it when I 
see you, if I should ask you. The town is not so large as 
it once was. It stands upon a beautiful island in the river, 
which is here several miles wide. The island appears to be 
five miles long, and one mile, or more, broad. There are a 
few old houses in a state of ruin, and only one good house 
which belongs to a rich planter, and stands near the place 
where the first houses were put up. But what interested 
me most, was an old brick wall, said to be part of a house of 
worship, which was built soon after the first settlement was 
made. It is the foundation of the old steeple. It stands 
alone, near the bank of the river, in the midst of some old 



428 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

tall trees, without any other part of the meeting house being 
left.* If I knew how to paint, I would give you a picture of 
it, with the beautiful river which runs by it. Here these 
good people met to worship God, to thank him for bringing 
them safe over the great ocean, and to ask him to protect 
them and their little children, from being destroyed by sick- 
ness, or what they dreaded still more, from being murdered 
by the Indians. Just behind this old wall, there is a small 
graveyard, where they buried their dead. I could perceive 
it distinctly, with its little low brick wall, in the midst of the 
bushes which have grown around it and under the large trees 
which I have mentioned. Here the bones of those who 
erected the first house of worship, have quietly lain for two 
hundred years ! Here they will lie, my dear son, till the 
morning of the resurrection, when the trumpet of the arch- 
angel will sound, and you and I, and your dear mother and 
brothers and sisters, shall all come forth out of our graves, 
to go to judgment ! Then these graves where the first set- 
tlers of America were buried, shall open, and the people 
who built this ancient church will rise, and you and I may 
see them, and perhaps stand beside them, before the bar of 
Jesus Christ. Or are you afraid that he will say to you, 
• Depart from me into everlasting fire ? " Oh ! my son, 
these are terrible words ! I hope you will never hear them 
from the lips of that dear compassionate Saviour, who once 
said with great tenderness, • Suffer little children to come 
unto me.' You remember AYhat I have said to you about 
coming to Christ. It means to be sorry for your sins, be- 
cause God is offended by them, to love him, to do what he 
commands you, to pray to him to forgive you, and to make 
you a good and holy child, and to give your soul to Christ, 
that he may save you for ever. If you come to Christ in 
this way, you will not hear those awful words from his lips ; 
but he will say to you, ' Come thou blessed of my Father ! ' 
How happy this would make your parents, who pray daily 
for you, and M., and T., and E., that you may all be good 
children, be children of God, and be prepared to be very 
useful in this world, and go to heaven when you die. I 
hope you do not forget to read the chapter in the New Tcs- 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 429 

tament with me every day. Mark, 10th chapter, is the 
portion for to-day." 

In 1826, Mr. Cornelius, at the urgent solicitation of the 
society, and with the advice of his brethren, closed his pas- 
toral relation with the endeared church in Salem, and be- 
came Secretary of the American Education Society, an 
association formed for the purpose of educating indigent, but 
promising young men for the ministry, and especially for 
missions. He had already rendered the society valuable 
aid, but now he devoted himself to its interests. He system- 
atized afresh the institution, and threw into it a new life 
and efficiency. He travelled extensively, preached almost 
without cessation, wrote and raised funds in its behalf, man- 
aged the business of the office with a regularity and skill that 
was truly remarkable ; and at the same time, watched as a 
pastor over the spiritual interests of the young beneficiaries. 
He left an indelible impression on their hearts, and the 
church of Christ has since been blessed through his faith- 
fulness towards those who afterwards became her pastors. 

In 1831, upon the death of Jeremiah Evarts, Esq., Cor- 
responding Secretary of the American Board of Commis- 
sioners for Foreign Missions, he was chosen to fill the 
vacancy. An office so responsible, he could not enter upon 
without an absolute conviction that it was in consonance with 
the Divine will. It was a matter of earnest prayer, of 
serious meditation, and of consultation with those upon 
whose judgment and piety he relied. When satisfied that 
duty called him to the more onerous and self-sacrificing 
duties of this station, he entered upon them with his usual 
ardor, and with no painful misgivings. 

He soon after resigned the offices which he held in con- 
nection with the American and Presbyterian Education 



430 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

Societies. The spirit in which he entered on his new labors 
was eminently Christian. For a few months previously, he 
had grown rapidly in grace and in the knowledge of his 
Lord and Saviour. A holy cheerfulness diffused itself over 
his countenance, and irradiated all his conduct. A mellow- 
ness of religious feeling was delightfully mingled with his 
accustomed energy. He felt, like Brainerd, " that he was 
dwelling on the sides of eternity." He was more and more 
earnest and solemn in the discharge of his parental and 
relative duties. To a friend he said, " I want you to do all 
you can for my dear Lord Jesus, who never appeared half 
so precious as he does now." To another individual, who 
had remarked that he must not overwork himself, nor wear 
out too soon, he replied very expressively, while he looked up 
towards heaven, his hand raised in an emphatic manner, 
" It matters not, if we only reach that bright place at last. " 
He commenced his labors in Boston, attending to the 
business of his office, and preaching with great acceptance, 
and with the manifest presence of the Holy Spirit, upon the 
great Missionary theme, in several of the churches. 

" Having finished his business in Boston, on Saturday, the 
4th of February, he left, on his return to New York. He 
had made arrangements to spend the Sabbath in Worcester, 
Massachusetts, and attend the monthly missionary concert 
of prayer in Hartford, Connecticut, on Monday evening. 
His labors in Boston had been slightly interrupted on ac- 
count of illness, at several times, but no special apprehen- 
sions in regard to his health had been felt. An individual, 
in whose family he had resided, said to him, just as he was 
leaving the house, ' Sir, is it not possible for you to remain 
with us till you have better health ? ' He answered, ' I 
think not ; my plans are formed, and I must go, I am very 
desirous to reach my family.' < If it may be, I hope, sir, we 
shall have the pleasure of welcoming you and your dear 



ELI AS CORNELIUS. 431 

family in Boston next May.' ' Perhaps so,' he replied, 
* but it is my desire so to live, that if I find God is going to 
call me hence in one half hour, I shall have no place I shall 
wish to visit, no cares to settle, no friends to see.' In the 
same spirit, he bid a final adieu to many other friends. 

" The weather was intensely cold, and on reaching Fram- 
ingham, twenty miles from Boston, he was seized with a 
chill, which made him cold at his very heart. This was 
succeeded by a burning heat, under which his pulse soon 
rose to one hundred and ten strokes in a minute. He 
reached Worcester at night, where he remained at his lodg- 
ings till Monday morning. A friend, who called, found him 
quite languid, and, at intervals, complaining of pain in his 
head and side. He conversed freely on the general and 
particular interests of Christ's kingdom, and dwelt with much 
ardor on the heavenly world. His conversation was like 
that of one who had already been in the land of promise, 
and knew by actual experience how to value its blessings. 
In conversing upon the interests of the Education and Mis- 
sionary societies, his soul seemed to be greatly enlarged, and 
his remarks were of the most impressive character. ' Labor 
on, my brother,' said he, ' till death. Time is short. I 
often think, when dwelling on this subject, that I shall very 
soon be laid aside from my labors.' 

" He arrived at the house of the Rev. Dr. Hawes, in 
Hartford, about two o'clock, Monday, P. M. Mrs. H. heard 
some one ring, and then come immediately in. After a 
moment, she opened the door, and he stood by the table, 
very slowly taking off his outer garments, and evidently very 
sick. After sitting down, he said he must have a physician, 
and mentioned doctors S. and K. Learning that doctor B. 
was the family physician, he requested that he might be first 
called. He expressed himself very anxious, if it was not 
too great a hazard, to attend the monthly concert, at which 
all the churches were expected, by appointment, to be 
present to meet him. Dr. B. thought it would not mate- 
rially increase his illness, and he therefore delayed taking 
medicine until he should return from the meeting. He 
made his arrangements to go in time to be present after the 



432 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

first singing and prayer, that lie might be out no longer than 
was necessary. When the family went to meeting, he re- 
tired into Dr. H.'s study, to remain until the carriage should 
come for him. While there he vomited, but when the car- 
riage came, went down. As he entered the carriage, assisted 
by the servant, he said, 6 I am more fit to go into my bed 
than to go to meeting.' At meeting, he spake only a few 
minutes, before he fainted, and was laid upon the settee, in 
the pulpit. After taking something to revive himself, he 
apologized to the audience for sitting, and went on with his 
address, as he sat in a chair in the pulpit. His countenance 
was now deadly pale, and then striped with scarlet. He 
spoke solemnly, but feebly, and before he finished, leaned 
his head upon his hand. He soon closed, and was accom- 
panied home by doctor B. and Mr. F. P. As he passed 
down the aisle, his death-like countenance and unnatural 
suddenness of motion filled the hearts of his friends with 
anxious forebodings. As soon as he reached home, he took 
an emetic, which operated favorably. His physician and 
friend left him at eleven o'clock, very comfortable, and he 
slept quietly until morning. To a friend, who called on 
Tuesday morning, he observed, that the last fifteen years of 
his life had been laboriously filled up ; he had taken no re- 
relaxation whatever, and was sensible that his health was 
seriously affected, but was now resolved to take time to 
recruit. To a female friend, who was performing some 
slight office for him, on Wednesday, he said, ' I feel your 
kindness more than I can express.' He invariably received 
the smallest attention with expressions of gratitude. On 
Wednesday, Mrs. H — — y took in part the care of him. 
She said she never saw a countenance so deeply solemn — 
that he smiled but once during the day, and then but a 
moment. Thursday, a friend, who delighted to do any 
thing for him, after dressing his blisters and giving him lem- 
onade, saw he was much refreshed, which he acknowledged 
in these words: ^-How comforting are these human kind- 
nesses ! No one could have comforted me so much as you 
have done, this side of New York — my wife ' — and his 
eyes were filled with tears. To the physician he remarked, 



ELI AS CORNELIUS. 433 

' It has been said, that it is better to wear out than to rust 
out. It has not been my design to throw away my life. I 
do not know but in my ardor, I may have been imprudent.' 
In the course of this conversation, he quoted the remark, 
that a man is * immortal as long as God has any thing for 
him to do.' * I wish,' said he, ' to live so long as God has 
employment for me ; therefore I wish }^ou to visit me three 
times a day, and invite others as you think proper, that my 
friends and the public may be satisfied. I wish that every 
means may be used for my recovery, and the event I cheer- 
fully leave with God.' Friday he was very weak. Satur- 
day morning, at eleven o'clock, he had a severe spasm. As 
he recovered from it, he said, ' Lord Jesus, receive my 
spirit ' — probably supposing he was dying. Mr. H. said, 
' You have a spasm ; we hope you are reviving.' He re- 
plied, ' As the Lord wills.' In the course of Saturday, he 
mentioned, that his physician at W. told him he must dismiss 
the gloomy thoughts of death. [From this it would appear, 
that he was early aware of the critical state of his health.] 
Some one said, ' You have bright prospects beyond the 
grave.' ' Yes,' he replied, * where the wicked cease from 
troubling, and the weary are at rest.' This was said with 
peculiar feeling and solemnity. Saturday evening, as Dr. 
K. was sitting beside him, expecting soon to see him die, he 
pressed his lips to the cheek of Mr. Cornelius, when he 
moved his head, and returning the salutation, said, ' I hope, 
my dear doctor, you are on the Lord's side.' After the 
reply, he said, ' This makes you doubly valuable as a phy- 
sician.' " 

About noon it became apparent to his attendants that 
disease was seating itself on his brain. 

Dr. H. says, " After having suffered severely from one 
of those violent spasms, which finally exhausted and broke 
down the firm frame-work of his soul, he called me to his 
bedside, and with great deliberation and calmness, said, he 
felt himself to be near his end. ' The impression,' said he, 
' has been upon my mind for these last three days, that this 
is my final sickness ; and I bless God that I can look for- 
ward to the change before me with composure and hope. I 

37 



434 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

feel that I am a poor sinner ; I need to be washed from 
head to foot in the blood of atonement — (this last was 
uttered with the most affecting solemnity) — but I hope I 
may be saved through the blood of Christ. Within the 
last year, and especially of late, the Lord Jesus Christ has 
been becoming more and more precious to my soul. I feel 
that I can commit my immortal all to him ; and here I wish 
to bear my dying testimony, that I go to the judgment re- 
lying on nothing but the blood of Jesus Christ. Without 
that, I should have no hope. Tell my dear wife that I 
praise God, and I hope that she will praise him ; that he 
gives me peace, and I trust a humble, thankful, penitent 
frame of mind, in this trying hour. Tell her not to indulge 
in immoderate grief, lest she sin against God. If she could 
see the whole glorious plan, as God sees it, she would bless 
his holy name for removing me now. He will take care of 
her, and the dear children. I have not a doubt of it. ' 

"After some messages to his children, he spoke of his 
other friends, calling them by name, and asking God to 
bless them. He spoke of the cause of missions with great 
tenderness and affection, and said that he had determined 
to write to the missionaries at the different stations, to en- 
gage them to observe the Friday, preceding the monthly 
concert, as a day of fasting and prayer, for higher quali- 
fications in themselves, and a higher tone of piety in 
Christians throughout the world. ' The thing,' said he, 
'which now stands in the way of the conversion of the 
world, is the want of primitive piety, a higher standard of 
religious feeling and action in the church. I have hoped 
that if it should please God to remove me now, it will be the 
means of promoting his cause more among the heathen, than 
if my life were spared. It is needful that the church should 
feel more deeply her dependence upon God, and pray to him 
with more fervency and faith, for the advancement of his 
cause on earth.' 

" ' Send my best love to my dear brethren at the mission- 
ary rooms, and tell them to gird on the whole armor of God, 
and give themselves entirely to the work. It is a good 
work, and God will prosper it. Give my thanks to the good 



ELLAS CORNELIUS. 435 

people in II . for their kindness to me for Jems' sake, (re- 
ferring to the contributions which had been made to the 
missionary cause, and to personal kindnesses.) Tell your 
own dear people from me, that they hear for eternity, — last 
Monday I was in the world, active, but now am dying. So 
it may be with any of them. Oh, if they would but realize 
the solemn purport of the fact that they hear for eternity, 
it would arouse them all from slumber, and cause them to 
attend, without delay, to the things that belong to their 
eternal peace. Tell them, oh tell them, to aim at a higher 
standard of piety, and to live more in devotedness to Christ 
and his cause. To one who is dying, there is an immeasur- 
able disparity between the standard of piety as it now is, and 
as it ought to be. When one comes to die, this subject 
appears of infinite importance.' About this time he re- 
quested Dr. II. to give a copy of the two works which he 
has published, to each of his children, 'and pay for them,' 
said he, ' with my money, as the last present of their dying 
father.' Some time on Saturday he uttered, as nearly as 
can be remembered, the following sentences. e It grieves 
me that there is so much appearance, and so much of the 
reality of pride among the dear children of God, and espec- 
ially among ministers. I have felt it in myself, and desire 
to be humbled before God on account of it. Before the best 
days of the church arrive, there must be a correction of 
this evil, and a return to a humble, child-like and submissive 
spirit.' The following remark was made, says Dr. H., with 
awful solemnity. His words were measured as if they were 
the last he was to utter. His eyes at first were raised. ' I 
feel that God has called me to a great work. I want to 
have every thing done right, strait, just as would be pleas- 
ing to the mind of Christ, whose mind I consider the only 
perfect standard of right in the universe. I have long felt 
scruples, whether, if Christ were on earth, he would approve 
of the distinctions which exist in the church. I refer to 
the honorary titles which are conferred on ministers. It is 
my wish that nothing that may ever come before the world 
with my name, may have a title appended to it.' Saturday 
evening, supposing that he might continue but a few hours, 



4S6 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

I said to him, remarks Dr. H., ' My dear brother, our con- 
versation has been abundantly gratifying to my heart, and 
it is proper you should prepare for the change -which you 
apprehend to be near. But there is still hope in your case. 
1 wish you to admit to your bosom all the hope that there 
is, and to lie in the hands of God like a little child.' I can 
never forget his reply. There was an indescribable tender- 
ness and solemnity in his voice, and manner. 4 Now, 
brother, there is one thing more, I wish to say. If it please 
Gud to bring me thus far, and then to say, tarry thou here 
a while longer, or take me away now — let his glorious will 
be done.'' " 

Mrs. E., who was with him Saturday afternoon, and 
also through the night, writes : " After he was relieved of 
his first spasm, which was about twelve o'clock at noon, he 
commenced praying, audibly. The leading object of his 
prayer, was to obtain entire faith in the merits of Christ, for 
acceptance, dwelling especially on the atonement made by 
liis death ; asking, with great earnestness, to be washed in 
the blood of Christ. This prayer was longer than any that 
I heard, and less interrupted by suffering ; was uniformly 
fervent, and, before he closed, manifested the most bright and 
confiding views of the Saviour. I have not words to describe 
the impression made on my benighted understanding by the 
expression of his views of the gloiy of the Redeemer. But 
this much I may say to you, it was delightful to me to hear 
such praise, and I listened with intense interest, to observe 
the operations of the Holy Spirit, in preparing such a mind 
to enter upon its final state of existence. After a short 
silence, he became restless, and spoke of his mind as wan- 
dering. To my inquiry whether he felt his reason waver, 
he said, ' Not at all, but my thoughts wander from those sub- 
jects upon which they ought to be fixed, to objects with 
which I have done,' adding, ' suppose you try the effect of 
the fourteenth chapter of John.' To this he gave close 
attention, occasionally joining, as I read, in the repetition of 
a verse, thrice repeating the closing clause of the twenty- 
seventh verse : Let not your heart be troubled, neither let 
it be afraid." Here we interrupt Mrs. E.'s narrative, to 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 439 

perceiving that his eyes were shut, I heard him say in an 
audible voice, ' Blessed Saviour, thy will be done.' A short 
time afterward, while Drs. B. and K., and myself were by 
him, he said, Dr. B., if I should die now, and you should 
wish to make a post mortem examination, to ascertain the 
cause of my disease, you are at perfect liberty to do so, for 
the benefit of others. I have no objection. I said to him, 
the nature of your disease is perfectly obvious, your friends 
are at no loss respecting it. To which Dr. B. assented, and 
said, there is nothing complicated or difficult to be known. 
Supposing, as I thought, that our remarks were intended to 
allay any anxiety he might have as to his situation, he soon 
added, ' Harriet Newell's physician told her to put away 
such gloomy thoughts from her mind ; but I would not have 
you understand that such thoughts distress me.' 

" On the early part of the night, after the family had 
retired, as I was standing alone by the side of his bed, I 
heard him exclaim, fixing his eyes upwards, ' All my con- 
fidence is in God ' — and soon after, ' I fear I shall be left 
to dishonor God.' At another time, taking my hand, and 
holding it in his a few minutes, he said, ' Oh, if my spirit 
had no stronger support than your frail hand ! ' At a 
subsequent time, alluding to his sickness, I spoke of the 
additional trial of being sick away from home, and compara- 
tively among strangers. ' I was just going to say,' said he, 
* that if this is to be my last sickness, I am sorry to leave 
such unpleasant associations in your mind connected with 
me.' Being at a loss, I inquired what he meant. ' Such 
distortions,' was his reply. 

" Between one and two in the morning, he was seized 
with a spasm, which continued with more or less violence 
for nearly three quarters of an hour, accompanied with a 
total aberration of mind, in which he discovered great 
mental, as well as bodily distress. When the spasm passed 
off, he became composed, and Mr. II. and Mrs. E. retired, 
and his nurse lay down in the room, when he spoke to me, 
and on my going to the bed, asked me to sit down by him. 
After a few minutes, he said, ' I feel as if I was in a new 
world. I am perfectly easy and free from pain. It is 



440 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

exceedingly refreshing. My reason is now as clear as ever, 
and I can hardly realize that I am sick, but by recollecting 
those painful struggles.' I asked him if he was then conscious 
of the sufferings he had undergone. He said, 'No ; though 
I am conscious of suffering, I am not aware of the extent of 
it. ' I asked him if he was aware of what he said or did, 
during his paroxysms. He said, ' No ; ' and soon asked, 
4 Do I do or say any thing that will dishonor God ? ' [It is 
evident that he must have known much of what transpired, 
because he alluded to his struggles, and the distortions of 
his countenance.] He also said of the painful imaginations 
which distressed him, ' They seem to be the temptations of 
the great adversary' — and added, ' Our Saviour was made 
perfect through suffering.' He said that when his eyes were 
open, he had none of those nervous agitations ; but the 
moment they were shut, his mind began to wander, accom- 
panied by those terrible spasms, and asked whether I thought 
he had better keep awake, or not. I told him that he very 
much needed quiet sleep, and wished he would try to obtain 
it, and I hoped those spasms would not return. ' Very well,' 
said he, ' I will do as you say ; ' and asked me if I would 
sit by him. I took his hand, and he fell into a drowsiness, 
which lasted, however, but a few minutes. During the 
above period, he said to me, ' Such hopes of heaven, and 
such fears of hell, in one night ! ' (alluding, in the last re- 
mark, to his mental distress when in spasms.) At another 
time, asked if to-morrow was the Sabbath. I told him we 
had already entered upon the Sabbath. ' The day,' said 
he, 'on which Jesus rose.' Towards morning, after sitting 
awhile by the fire, I returned to the bed, and taking his 
hand, he said to me, ' If we, frail creatures, could only 
have a text of Scripture in our mind, during periods of 
insanity, it would help us to resist Satan.' I said, * Get 
thee behind me, Satan.' He replied, ' Yes ; and of those 
that are given to Christ, not one shall be lost.' About six 
o'clock another paroxysm commenced, which did not subside 
until half an hour previous to his death, when he was wholly 
exhausted, and being raised upon his pillows, remained per- 



ELIAS CORNELIUS. 437 

say that the course of his mind at this time is obvious. ' The 
objects with which he had done,' probably were his wife, chil- 
dren and mother, and he sought to strengthen his faith, and 
allay every anxiety by meditating upon the promises and 
tender encouragements of this precious chapter ; hence his 
double repetition of the twenty-seventh verse. " After send- 
ing a message to a relative, charging her to make reconcil- 
iation with God the object of her life, he was seized with 
great suffering, though not with such severe spasms as he 
had endured, but he certainly supposed himself, at this time, 
to be dying. When able to articulate, he commenced pray- 
ing again. The object for which he specially prayed, was 
submission to the divine will, respecting his sufferings ; en- 
treating us to join him in asking that he might not, in any 
moment of agony, be left to dishonor God. There was evi- 
dently a shrinking of the flesh, from the sufferings laid upon 
him ; while in the spirit of his Master, he strove to say, 
' The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink 
it ? ' And abundant evidence was given, before he closed 
that prayer, that he could add, ' nevertheless, not my will, 
but thine be done.' After this period of pain and mental 
suffering was over, he remained, as it were, with the quiet- 
ness of a child, in the hands of his Father, expressing his 
thanks to those about him, and his willingness that any thing 
should be done that was thought best or advisable for him. 
About this time he said to me, ' Why am I continued here, 
there must be something for me to do or to say. I think I 
could willingly remain till to-morrow -morning in all this 
distress, if I could do any good to any one. I have a word 
for Mrs. 11. 's little daughter. Tell her a dying man sends 
her his message ; Choose religion young, choose it young, 
that a long life may be spent in the service of the Redeemer.' 
Soon after this, he asked me if I could sing. I told him I 
could not, but began repeating in a soft, low tone, ' These 
glorious minds, how bright they shine.' He seemed quieted, 
and while I was engaged in bathing his hands and repeating 
them, fell asleep for a few moments, and seemed to gain rest 
and strength. After he awoke, and a little time had elapsed 
in giving him medicine, and nourishment, and arranging his 

37* 



438 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

pillows, he inquired what time it was. On being told it was 
nearly seven o'clock, he expressed surprise that he still con- 
tinued here, and again dwelt on the idea that God had 
something for him to do. I ventured to remark that if God 
had yet any thing for him to do, he would himself lead him 
in the way he should go, and show him what he required of 
him, adding, though your present state is extremely critical, 
we are not absolutely without hope, that you may yet be 
restored to health, and future usefulness. For an instant, 
something like a gleam of sunshine, passed over his features, 
but after a moment of thought, he raised his eyes to me, 
and said, i Stop, my dear madam, there are temptations in 
a dying bed which you know not of.' I felt rebuked. I 
felt that I had been willing to detain a soul for usefulness 
here, that God required to serve him in heaven. After 
this, very little was said, till he commenced a prayer for 
humility ; to be emptied of self, to abase himself and place 
God on the throne, was the language of his heart, and this 
petition, like those which preceded it, seemed to be granted 
while he was yet speaking. what amazing progress in 
holiness was made in these few hours ! The object for 
which he prayed, the evident answer to his prayer, by the 
manifestation of that grace for which he prayed, and the 
s'rong faith by which he took hold on eternal life, were to 
me most apparent and wonderful exhibitions of the opera- 
tions of the divine Spirit. I cannot doubt that the Spirit of 
God was with him in a peculiar manner, any more than I 
doubt my own existence. You see that I have not so much 
to tell you of* what he said to me or others, as you might 
expect, but his prayers were the striking circumstances, and 
of these, I can only give you this general account. At the 
time, they seemed to me like one gleam of glory, and I felt 
not only that the sj.ot where I stood, was holy, but that I 
was almost translated with his spirit, unto the immediate 
presence of my God, my Judge, and that I longed to be 
washed in that blood in which his soul bathed." 

Mr. F. P., who was with him from seven o'clock on Sat- 
urday evening, until eight on Sabbath morning, writes the 
following: " Going to his bedside about eight in the evening, 



THOMAS ARNOLD, 441 

fectly quiet, with his eyes half closed, until he ceased to 
breathe." 

Another kind friend says, that it was most interesting to 
see the influence of religion over his mind during the de- 
rangement caused by his spasms. At those periods, he was 
harassed with the apprehension that he was eternally lost ; 
but he would say, " Elias Cornelius lost ! Elias Cornelius a 
spectacle to God, to angels, and to men ! The Lord reigns ; 
let the earth rejoice ! " After the last spasm ceased, and he 
was placed upon pillows, Mr. H. E. sung two verses of 
" Jesus, lover of my soul." Dr. H. then prayed. Mrs. H. 
and Mrs. E. watched him attentively during the prayer. 
When Dr. H. used the expression, " Receive the departing 
spirit of thy servant, now going to the reward of his labors," 
he evidently made an effort to move his lips and his hands ; 
and both Mrs. H. and E. understood him to be making an 
effort to disclaim the idea of a reward. "When Dr. H. 
prayed that his absent wife might be supported under the 
trial, he made another effort to move his lips and raise his 
hands ; thus showing that he understood and joined in the 
petition. At the close of the prayer, he expired, 



THOMAS ARNOLD. 

The lamented and justly celebrated Dr. Arnold, but lately 
ceased from his active and important labors, exhibited in his 
sudden death, one of the most touching instances of the 
power of religion to support in an unexpected and solemn 
emergency, and to add a most sublime conclusion to a noble 
and sanctified life. 

He was born at West Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, on the 
13th of June, 1795. Losing at an early age, his father, his 
youthful studies were carefully directed by an examplary 



442 THE EMINENT BEAD. 

and affectionate mother. In his 16th year he entered the 
University at Oxford, and gave early evidence of a strong 
and active mind. In 1818, he was ordained deacon in the 
the Church of England, and in 1820, married Mary, the 
youngest daughter of the Rev. John Penrose, having already 
settled himself at Laleham, as an instructor of young men 
preparing for the Universities. His eminent success as a 
teacher soon pointed him out as, every way, the best fitted to 
fill the head mastership of the celebrated Rugby preparatory 
school, which became vacant in 1827. And to this respon- 
sible position, the scene of his severest labors, and greatest 
success, he was accordingly elected. We have not room in 
this short sketch to detail the measures suggested and exe- 
cuted by this great and devoted man for the reformation of 
the English educational system, and particularly for the 
efficiency of his own beloved and peculiar institution at 
Rugby. He consecrated all his powers to his work, and 
watched over his pupils, at once, in the relation of master, 
parent, friend and minister. He taught during the week, 
engaged with them in healthful sports, and on the Sabbath, 
as an ambassador of Christ, besought them to dedicate their 
minds and hearts to the service and love of their Saviour. 
Impressions were made upon the hearts of these pupils that 
neither time nor temptation could efface ; and the Rugby boys 
carried to the University, and into their succeeding profes- 
sions, a character for manhood, activity, and piety, that evi- 
dently exhibited the tireless care, and happy success, of their 
beloved and ever-remembered master. 

Dr. Arnold's literary labors are too well known to need 
description. In nearly every moral undertaking of the day, 
his clear and eloquent voice was heard, and it was the great 
leading desire of his life, to elevate and Christianize the 
popular and serial reading of his day. 






THOMAS ARNOLD. 443 

In 1841, fourteen years after his appointment, at Rugby, 
he was elected Reguis Professor of Modern History in the 
University at Oxford, at once an honor to himself and to his 
Alma Mater. 

He entered upon his duties with great vigor and with the 
most unparalleled success, but the expectations of thousands 
of his admiring friends were suddenly cut off. In the very 
vigor of his manhood and intellect, he fell at his post with 
his harness upon him. 

He seemed almost to have had some spiritual pre-monition 
of the approaching event, as appeared from a detached diary 
commenced about three weeks before his end, while confined 
to his room by a slight illness. This diary was written the 
last thing at night, and was intended to serve as a channel 
to receive a " rush of love in his heart towards God and 
Christ," which was vouchsafed to him at this time, and to 
keep alive the impression made by such divine communi- 
cations. 

May 22. — "lam now within a few weeks of completing 
my forty-seventh year. Am I not old enough to view life 
as it is, and to contemplate steadily its end — what it is 
coming to, and must come to— -what all things are without 
God ? I know that my senses are on the very eve of be- 
coming weakened, and that my faculties will then soon begin 
to decline too, — whether rapidly or not I know not, — but 
they will still decline. Is there not one faculty which never 
declines, which is the seed and the seal of immortality ; and 
what has become of that faculty in me ? What is it to live 
unto God ? May God open my eyes to see Him by faith, 
in and through Jesus Christ His Son. May He draw me 
to Him, and keep me with Him, — making His will my will, 
His love my love, His strength my strength ; and may He 
make me feel that pretended strength, not derived from 



444 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

Him, is no strength, but the worst weakness. May His 
strength be perfected in my weakness." 

Again, June 6th, he says : "I have felt better and 
stronger all this clay, and I thank God for it. But may he 
keep my heart tender. May He keep me gentle and 
patient, yet active and zealous ; may He bless me in Him- 
self and in His Son. May He make me humble-minded in 
this, that I do not look for good things as my portion here, 
but rather should look for troubles as what I deserve, and 
as what Christ's people are to bear. ' If ye be without 
chastisement, of which all are partakers,' &c. How much 
of good have I received at God's hands, and shall I not 
also receive evil ? Only, Lord, strengthen me to bear 
it, whether it visit me in mind, in body, or in estate. 
Strengthen me with the grace which Thou didst vouchsafe 
to thy martyrs ; and let me not fall from Thee in any trial. 
Lord, let us cherish a sober mind, to be ready to bear 
evenly and not sullenly. Lord, reveal to me Thyself 
in Christ Jesus, which knowledge will make all suffering 
and all trials easy. Lord, bless my dearest wife, and 
strengthen us in the hardest of all trials, evil befalling each 
other. Bless our dear children, and give me grace to guide 
them wisely and lovingly, through Jesus Christ. Lord, 
may I join with all thy people in heaven and on earth, in 
offering up prayers to Thee through our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
and in saying, i Glory be to Thy most holy name for ever 
and ever.' " 

* It was between five and six o'clock on Sunday morning, 
that he awoke with a sharp pain across his chest, which he 
mentioned to his wife, on her asking whether he felt well, — 
adding that he had felt it slightly on the preceding day, be- 
fore and after bathing. He then composed himself to sleep ; 

* Stanley's Life of Arnold. 



THOMAS ARNOLD. 445 

but her watchful care, always anxious, even to nervousness, 
at the least indication of illness, was at once awakened ; and 
on finding from him that the pain increased, and that it 
seemed to pass from his chest to his left arm, her alarm was 
so much roused from a remembrance of having heard of this 
in connection with Angina Pectoris, and its fatal conse- 
quences, that in spite of his remonstrances, she rose and 
called up an old servant, whom they usually consulted in 
cases of illness, from her having so long attended the sick 
bed of her sister, Susannah. Reassured, by her confidence, 
that there was no ground for fear, but still anxious, Mrs. 
Arnold returned to her room. She observed him as she 
was dressing herself, lying still, but with his hands clasped, 
his lips moving, and his eyes raised upwards, as if engaged 
in prayer, when all at once he repeated firmly and earnestly, 
" And Jesus said unto them, Thomas, because thou hast seen 
thou hast believed ; blessed are they who have not seen, and 
yet have believed ; " and soon afterwards, with a solemnity 
of manner and depth of utterance, which spoke more than 
the words themselves, " But if ye be without chastisement, 
whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not 
sons." 

From time to time he seemed to be in severe suffering ; 
and on the entrance of the old servant before mentioned, 
said, " Ah ! Elizabeth, if I had been as much accustomed 
to pain as dear Susannah was, I should bear it better." To 
his wife, however, he uttered no expression of acute pain, 
dwelling only on the moments of comparative ease, and 
observing that he did not know what it was. But the more 
than usual earnestness which marked his tone and manner, 
especially in repeating the verses from Scripture, had again 
roused her worst fears ; and she ordered messengers to be 
sent for medical assistance, which he had at first requested 
• 38 



446 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

her not to do, from not liking to disturb, at that early hour, 
the usual medical attendant, who had been suffering from 
indisposition. She then took up the Prayer Book, and was 
looking for a Psalm to read to him, when he said quickly, 
" The fifty-first ; " which she accordingly read by his bed- 
side, reminding him, at the seventh verse, that it was the 
favorite verse of one of the old alms-women whom he was 
in the habit of visiting ; and at the twelfth verse, " 0, give 
me the comfort of thy love again, and establish me with 
thy free Spirit:" he repeated it after her very earnestly. 
She then read the prayer in the " Visitation of the Sick," 
beginning, " The Almighty Lord, who is a most strong 
tower," &c, kneeling herself at the foot of the bed, and 
altering it into a common prayer for them both. 

As the clock struck a quarter to seven, Dr. Bucknill (the 
son of the usual medical attendant) entered the room. He 
was then lying on his back, his countenance much as usual ; 
his pulse, though regular, was very quick, and a cold perspir- 
ation on the brow and cheek. But his tone was cheerful. 
" How is your father ? " he asked, on the physician's 
entrance ; "I am sorry to disturb you so early — I knew 
that your father was unwell, and that you had enough to 
do." He described the pain, speaking of it as having been 
very severe, and then said, " What is it ? " Whilst the 
physician was pausing a moment before he replied, the pain 
returned, and remedies were applied until it passed away ; 
and Mrs. Arnold, seeing by the measures used, that the 
medical man was himself alarmed, left the room for a few 
moments to call up her second son, the eldest of the family 
then at Rugby, and impart her anxiety to him ; and during 
her absence her husband again asked what it was, and was 
answered, that it was the spasm of the heart. He exclaimed 
in his peculiar manner of recognition, " Ha ! " and then 



THOMAS ARNOLD. 447 

being asked, if he had ever in his life fainted ? " No, never." 
If he had ever had difficulty of breathing ? " No, never." If 
he had ever had sharp pain in the chest ? " No, never." If 
any of the family had ever had the disease of the chest ? 
" Yes, my father had — he died of it." What age was he ? 
" Fifty-three." Was it suddenly fatal ? " Yes, suddenly 
fatal." He then asked, " If the disease of the heart was a 
common disease?" "Not very common." "Where do 
we find it most ? " " In large towns, I think." " Why ? " 
(Two or three causes were mentioned.) " Is it generally 
fatal ? " " Yes, I am afraid it is." 

The physician then quitted the house for medicine, leav- 
ing Mrs. Arnold, now fully aware from him of her husband's 
state. At this moment she was joined by her son, who en- 
tered the room with no serious apprehension, and on coming 
to his bed, his father, with his usual gladness of expression 
toward him, asked, " How is your deafness, my boy ? " (he 
had been suffering from it the night before,) and then play- 
fully alluding to an old accusation against him, " You must 
not stay here ; you know you do not like a sick room." He 
then sat down with his mother at the foot of the bed, and 
presently his father said in a low voice, " My son, thank 
God for me ; " and as his son did not at once catch his 
meaning, he went on, saying, " Thank God, son, for giving 
me this pain : I have suffered so little pain in my life, that I 
feel it is very good for me, now God has given it to me, and 
I do so thank him for it." And again, after a pause, he 
said — alluding to a wish which his son had often heard him 
express, that if he ever had to suffer pain, his faculties might 
be unaffected by it — " How thankful I am that my head is 
untouched." 

Meanwhile his wife, who still had sounding in her ears the 
tone in which he had repeated the passage in the Epistle to 



448 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

the Hebrews, again turned to the Prayer Book, and began 
to read the Exhortation, in which it occurs in the " Visita- 
tion of the Sick." He listened with deep attention, saying 
emphatically, " Yes," at the end of many of the sentences. 
" There should be no greater comfort to Christian persons 
than to be made like unto Christ." " Yes." " By suffer- 
ing patiently troubles, adversities, and sickness." " Yes." 
"He entered not into his glory before he was crucified." 
" Yes." At the words, " everlasting life," she stopped, 
and his son said, " I wish, dear papa, we had you at Fox- 
How." He made no answer, but the last conscious look, 
which remained fixed in his wife's memory, was the look of 
intense tenderness and love with which he smiled upon them 
both at that moment. 

The physician now returned with the medicines, and the 
former remedies were applied : there was a slight return of 
the spasms, after which he said, " If the pain is again as 
severe as it was before you came, I do not know how I can 
bear it." He then, with his eyes fixed upon the physician, 
who rather felt than saw them upon him, so as to make it 
impossible not to answer the exact truth, repeated one or 
two of his former questions about the cause of the disease, 
and ended with asking, "Is it likely to return ? " and on 
being told that it was, "Is it generally suddenly fatal ? " 
" Generally." On being asked whether he had any pain, 
he replied, that he had none but from the mustard plaster 
on his chest, with a remark on the severity of the spasms in 
comparison with this outward pain ; and then a few moments 
afterwards, inquired what medicine was to be given ; and on 
being told, answered, " Ah, very well." The physician, 
who was dropping the laudanum into a glass, turned round, 
and saw him looking quite calm with his eyes shut. In 
another minute he heard a rattle in the throat, and a con- 



WILLIAM NEVLNS. 449 

vulsive struggle, flew to the bed, caught his head upon his 
shoulder, and called to one of the servants to fetch Mrs. 
Arnold. She had just left the room to acquaint her son 
with his father's danger, of which he was still unconscious, 
when she heard herself called from above. She rushed up 
stairs, told her son to bring the rest of the children, and 
with her own hands applied the remedies that were brought, 
in hope of reviving animation, though herself feeling from 
the moment that she saw him, that he had already passed 
away. The sobs and cries of his children, as they entered 
and saw their father's state, made no impression upon him — 
the eyes were fixed — the countenance was unmoved — there 
was a heaving of the chest — deep gasps escaped at pro- 
longed intervals — and just as the usual medical attendant 
arrived, and as the old school-house servant, in an agony of 
grief, rushed with the others into the room, in the hope of 
seeing his master once more, he breathed his last. 



WILLIAM NEVINS. 

It was evident that the time of his departure was drawing 
nigh; when a friend entered his room, he said, " I am near 
my home. Blessed Saviour ! Satan, I think, has tried to 
disturb me ; but I have looked at all the ground of my hope, 
and I find I am on a rock. Yes, I am going home" 

After this, for many hours he said but little, until after 

four o'clock in the afternoon, when reviving, he said, " Out 

of weakness I testify that Jesus and his religion are sufficient. 

I should like to talk for the sake of you all. I feci weak, 

38* 



450 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

but I feel peace, too. Jesus, I chose thee, but thou first 
calledst me. I do not know that I shall be able to say any 
thing more." In a few minutes his strength seemed to re- 
turn, and he said, " Oh, there is one that says, ' Fear not, 
I am with thee : be not dismayed.' In that I confide. 
blessed Lord, thou hast said, I will never forsake thee ; he 
does not make me to triumph exactly, but I have every 
disposition. 

'"O, to grace how great a debtor, 
Daily I'm constrained to be ; ' 

Repeat it, ' Jesus sought ! * " Here his friend repeated, 

" Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
Wandering from the fold of God, 
He to rescue me from danger, 
Interposed his precious blood." 

" That will do," he said ; " I mean his precious blood will 
do. Yes, yes, Jesus is on the other side of Jordan. The 
Lord's blessed will be done. That blessed heaven ! Rest — 
love to all that are absent. I recommend Christ to them ; 
I have no other recommendation but Jesus. He has sup- 
ported me all along for several weeks, and now see ! his 
grace is sufficient for me. * One there is above all others; ' 
sing it, sing it ; or sing, ' When I can read my title 
clear ! ' " One verse was sung. He became very calm, 
and at the close he said, " Thank the Lord for all his good- 
ness to me." Here he sank into a slumber. At different 
times during the night, he said, " for grace to be patient; " 
when told he was patient, " Yes," said he, " but I would 
be patient as a lamb." At another time he said, " Precious 
Saviour, be with me even to the end. Won't it be sweet to 
fall right into the arms of Jesus ? " To another he said, 
" Let patience have her perfect work, through much tribu- 
lation ! Through much tribulation ! " Rousing' up, he said, 



WILLIAM NEVINS. 451 

" I know not what you are about, but all I am thinking 
about is my precious Saviour : dear blessed One ! " At 
eight o'clock, on the morning of the 14th, he said, " 6 Come, 
my soul, thy suit prepare ; ' go on." The hymn book was 
brought, and being asked if we should sing or read, he said, 
" read." The first verse was read : 

" Come, my soul, thy suit pi-epare, 
Jesus loves to answer prayer : 
He himself has bid thee pray, 
Rise and ask without delay." 

When finished, he said, " yes, I ask for patience and 
help to the end. Go on." At the end of the second verse, 
which reads thus — 

" With my burden I begin, 
Lord ! remove this load of sin ; 
Let thy blood for sinners spilt, 
Set my conscience free from guilt ; " 

He said, " Yes, yes, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from 
all sin." At the end of the third verse, 

" Lord ! I come to thee for rest, 
Take possession of my breast, 
Here thy sovereign right maintain, 
And without a rival reign ; " 

He said, " Yes, Lord, begin thy reign whenever thou 
choosest, and continue it for ever." At the close of the 
fourth verse, 

" Show me what I have to do, 
Every hour my strength renew ; 
Let me live a life of faith, 
Let me die thy people's death ; " 

He added, " Lord, thou seest what poor creatures we all 
are. Bless us all and strengthen us. Dear Saviour, thou 
givest me some suffering, but nothing compared to what 
many saints and thyself suffered." About five o'clock, on 



452 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

Monday, he asked to be raised up, and said, " Death — 
death, now come Lord Jesus — dear Saviour." In a few 
minutes his spirit was gone. It is confidently believed, that 
" he fell right into the arms of Jesus,'' in whom he sleeps 
until the morning of the resurrection. 



WILBUR FISK. 

Rev. Wilbur Fisk, son of Hon. Isaiah Fisk, was born in 
Brattleborough, Vt., August 31st, 1792. In early youth he 
exhibited great precocity of mind, a great fondness for 
books, and an unquenchable desire after knowledge. His 
parents were eminently devout, and watched with the utmost 
solicitude the development of his mental and moral powers. 
" Mrs. Fisk was very assiduous in impressing upon the 
minds of her children the great principles of Christianity. 
She took them early and constantly to the church ; made it 
a particular business to read to them the Word of God ; 
required them to learn the catechism, and commit texts, 
hymns, and prayers to memory. She had the happy art, 
too, of rendering these things more a pleasure than a 
burden. According to their capacity, she was almost con- 
stantly stimulating them to thought and inquiry by her con- 
versation with them. They regarded it as a day strictly set 
apart for religious uses, and hence the time not spent in 
public worship was occupied in family instruction. They 
neither paid, nor received calls or visits on the Sabbath day. 
Yet their piety was so mild and cheerful, and their house- 



WILBtfR FISK. 453 

hold governed with such uniform consistency, that the Sab- 
bath was far from being a dull or gloomy day."* 

With such a faithful training, it is not surprising that his 
mind was early subject to religious impressions. At the age 
of eleven, his attention was powerfully arrested by the death 
of his little brother ; sincere penitence for sin, and a thorough 
change of heart and life, obvious to all that knew him, soon 
followed, and he connected himself with the Methodist 
Episcopal Church. 

His ardent thirst for knowledge induced his father to send 
him for a short time to an academy in Peacham, an adjoin- 
ing town ; and afterwards, chiefly by his own exertions in 
teaching winter schools, &c, he obtained a suitable prepar- 
ation for college, and entered the Sophomore class of the 
University of Vermont, at Burlington, in 1812. In 1813, 
the buildings of the college, in the fortunes of war, became 
the barracks of the soldiers of the northern army, during 
their winter quarters, and instruction was suspended. In 
the summer of 1814, Mr. Fisk entered Brown University, 
at Providence, Rhode Island, and continued there, exhibiting 
marked tokens of superiority and excellent scholarship, until 
an honorable graduation in 1815. 

During the period in which he had been engaged in his 
studies, his interest in religion had gradually decreased, and 
was at this time nearly lost* 

When he came, therefore, to the choice of a profession, 
although it had been the earnest desire and prayer of his 
father, that he might be a minister of the gospel, his own 
tastes led him in an entirely different direction, and he com- 
menced the study of the law in Lyndon, Vt., then the resi- 
dence of his parents. Afterwards a very favorable oppor- 
tunity offering for a private tutorship in the family of Col, 

* Life of Dr. Fisk. 



454 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

Bidgely, of Baltimore, he embraced it, although still contin- 
uing his legal reading. His health soon after this began 
rapidly to fail, exhibiting fearful pulmonary symptoms, and 
attended with excessive hemorrhage from the lungs. Upon 
his partial recovery, with the advice of his physicians, he 
gave up his school and started for his home. On his return 
by way of the Hudson and Lake Champlain, he was again 
prostrated at Burlington, and little hope was entertained of 
his recovery. While thus apparently dying at the hotel, 
the benevolent inn keeper, although not a professor of reli- 
gion, felt it his duty to converse with him concerning the 
interests of his soul. His questions aroused the sleeping 
conscience of Fisk, and produced deep searchings of heart. 
Spared, by a merciful Providence, from death, he at length 
reached his father's house. At this time there was a pow- 
erful religious revival in the town, and after a period of 
deep spiritual distress, Mr. Fisk was again restored to the 
joys of the " great salvation," and immediately consecrated 
all his talents and services to the Saviour and to his church. 
His conviction that it was his duty to preach the gospel, was 
clear and irresistible. But it was not until after earnest 
prayer, and a serious struggle, that he offered himself to the 
Methodist Episcopal Church as a laborer in her ranks. 
There were many obstacles in the way ; the church of his 
choice was then small and despised ; while his parents were 
rejoiced to have him enter upon this work, other very dear 
friends opposed such a movement, as unworthy his shining 
talents and expectations ; the temporal recompense was 
small, the sacrifices great, and his health precarious. But 
the path of duty was plainly opened, and he wavered not for 
one moment. Mr. F., alluding to this period several years 
afterwards, thus speaks of his mental and spiritual exercises, 
in a supposed dialogue between himself and- his Divine 



WILBUR FISK. 455 

Master, in which his objections to the step are stated and 
answered. This dialogue he once rehearsed, in the year 
1838, as though it related to another person, at a meeting 
which he attended, of the Preachers' Aid Society in the city 
of Baltimore : 

Christ. Go preach my gospel. 

Answer. But, Lord, I have other engagements. 

C. You are not your own ; you are bought with a price. 

A. But, Lord, I have been preparing myself for another 
profession. I have been struggling for an education. I 
have high prospects before me, &c. 

O. What have you that you have not received ? 

A. Lord, I have strong domestic feelings, and I hope one 
day to have a family and home of my own. 

O. He that loveth houses or lands, wife or children, more 
than me, is not worthy of me. 

A. Lord, I have aged parents, and I am an only son. 
Filial love and duty require that I should look after them. 

C. He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not 
worthy of me. 

A. Lord, is there no excuse ? May not another an- 
swer ? 

C. The gifts and callings of God are without repentance. 

A. At least, let me first stop and bury my father and 
mother. 

0. Let the dead bury their dead. 

A. At any rate, I must wait awhile, and acquire some 
property, &c. 

O. He that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh 
back, is not fit for the kingdom of Heaven. 

A. Lord, I cannot go. 

C. Woe unto you if you preach not the gospel. 

A. But, Lord, wilt thou not pity a poor, helpless wretch, 
who begs for an excuse as one would plead for his life ? 

C. "Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that 
though he was rich, for your sakes he became poor, that ye 
through his poverty might be made rich," 



■ibQ THE EMINENT DEAD. 

" Here " (as he related the circumstance in Baltimore) 
" the dialogue ended. The young man covered his face 
with his hands, and bursting into tears, cried, 

" ' Nay, but I yield, I yield.' 

" The bond was signed and sealed, and the youth was 
consigned over, soul and body, to the church. The next 
thing I saw of him, he was threading a pathless forest among 
the Green Mountains, bordering upon the Canada line, driv- 
ing his horse before him because of the roughness of the 
wilderness, cheerful as an angel on an errand of mercy. 
And I heard his song, with which he made the ragged moun- 
tain tops that hung over his path reverberate ; and what, sir, 
do you think it was ? 

" ' No foot of land do I possess, 
Nor cottage in this wilderness, 

A poor wayfaring man : 
I lodge awhile in tents below, 
Or gladly wander to and fro, 

Till I my Canaan gain. 

" ' Nothing on earth I call my own, 
A stranger to the world unknown, 

I all their goods despise ; 
I trample on their whole delight, 
And seek a city out of sight, 

A city in the skies.' " 

Mr. F. soon after commenced the laborious duties of an 
itinerant ; his first field of labor being Craftsbury, Yt., where 
a powerful revival followed his preaching. 

In 1819, he was appointed to Charlestown, Mass., where 
he labored with great success. During this year his relig- 
ious experience was deeply enriched, and his confidence in 
the gospel he preached, powerfully confirmed. The circum- 
stances are thus related by his biographer : 

On the 10th of August, Mr. Fisk attended a camp- 
meeting at Welhieet, on Cape Cod. This meeting was 



WILBUR PISK. 457 

signalized by remarkable displays of Divine power in the 
awakening of sinners and sanctification of believers. The 
subject of our narrative had many exercises of mind on the 
subject of Christian perfection, but was not, when he went 
to the meeting, under any special concern about it. But 
while there his attention was strongly interested in it, espe- 
cially under a sermon by the Rev. Timothy Merritt, on the 
baptism of the Holy Spirit. He became deeply sensible of 
his want of full conformity to the Christian standard ; he 
sought earnestly unto God through the blood of the atoning 
sacrifice ; and in the course of the meeting he obtained that 
" perfect love " that " caste th out fear." His religious 
emotions now acquired a wonderful intensity and elevation. 
One who was present at the time, says, " His language and 
whole appearance had something in it more than human, 
most manifestly indicating that his soul then glowed with 
ardors of love nearly allied to those of angels. The next 
morning he preached on growth in grace, when the impres- 
sion made upon the audience was deep, awful, glorious. 
His beautiful classic style, vivified with fire from Heaven's 
own altar, never appeared to better advantage. He poured 
forth a full soul in ' thoughts that breathe and words that 
burn.' " 

Some effects of his late exercises of mind are not unwor- 
thy of notice. His views of the Divine Being, and especially 
of the power, glory, and fulness of Christ, were almost 
overwhelming. He felt such a horror of sin, and had so 
great an apprehension of the purity of the Divine law, 
that he " almost," to use his own strong language, " feared 
to set his foot on the ground lest he should do wrong." 
Familiarity with these views would necessarily abate some- 
what the intensity of his feelings. But other effects became 
permanent. Previously to this he had often doubted, not 
only his interest in Christ, but the truth of the Christian 
religion ; afterward, never. From this time, he has been 
heard to say that he never laid his head upon his pillow 
without feeling that, if he never waked in this world, all would 
be well. Prior to this he was often subject to desponding, 
gloomy seasons ; we heard him say long afterward, that he 

39 



458 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

knew no gloomy hours ; his mind was always serene and 
happy. This may have been owing, in part, to that admir- 
able balance of mind which characterized him, and on which 
our mental enjoyment so greatly depends ; but it was ma- 
tured and confirmed by that equal balance of the moral 
faculties which the efficient spirit of Christianity produced. 
Writing to his sister some time after, he says, " I have 
found, my dear sister, much consolation of late in that reli- 
gion which I profess. God has been pleased to brighten my 
evidence of acceptance with him. I have been enabled to 
say, ' I have not a doubt ; I feel it so.' I have dedicated 
myself anew to the Lord and to his ministry. . Though I 
love you, my sister, and my dear parents, if possible, better 
than ever, yet I have felt such a complete devotedness to 
the work in which I am engaged, that those ties which have 
hitherto given me pain are loosed. Most willingly do I de- 
vote all to God, and rejoice in the service of such a Master. 
I look back upon my past life, upon my follies and my wan- 
derings, and wonder at the mercy that has spared me, and 
at that Providence that has protected me. that I could 
love this Saviour more and serve him better ! " 

His eloquent address, commanding presence, and mature 
judgment, secured him at once a prominent position in the 
church ; and although still young, he was rapidly advanced to 
positions of honor and trust, by his ministerial brethren. In 
June, 1823, he was married to Miss J. Peck, of Providence, 
a lady whose affection, piety and talent, cheered his heart 
and endeared his home, until the end of his laborious life. In 
1824, he was appointed presiding elder of Vermont district, 
and in the same year Avas elected a delegate to the General 
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church held in the 
city of Baltimore, and took a high rank in the midst of the 
combined talent of the communion. 

In 1826, he was appointed to the principalship of Wes- 
leyan Academy, a denominational institution, in whose estab- 



WILBUR FISK. 459 

lishment he had taken a lively interest. During his admin- 
istration, the character of this institution was raised to an 
unprecedented height ; two or three hundred students, from 
all parts of the country, being in some terms connected with 
its classes, and its scholarship was of the highest excellence. 
But what was a matter of still greater importance, in nearly 
every term, through the unceasing spiritual watch care of 
their devout and eloquent principal, blessed revivals of re- 
ligion broke out, and numerous youths were happily con- 
verted to God. 

On the 24th of August, 1830, he was elected the first 
President of Wesleyan University, Middletown, Connecticut, 
a new collegiate institution, just established under the pat- 
ronage of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Honor and 
emolument, after the offers he had declined of highly honor- 
able and lucrative stations, certainly did not induce his 
acceptance of the appointment, but a conviction of duty and 
a deep love for the church of his choice ; and in all his heavy 
labors and sacrifices afterwards, he never for a moment re- 
gretted his decision. 

From a small beginning, the college over which he now 
presided, under his efficient management, rose to' a most 
respectable grade among even the older New England insti- 
tutions. 

An incident that occurred at this time is worthy of notice, 
as showing the character of the man. Not long after his 
election to the office of president, a member of the Board 
took him one side to read him a lecture, and give him some 
advice. He reminded him, that the position he now occu- 
pied was one of much dignity, and the reputation of the 
University must be affected by his own reputation. He 
therefore advised him to preach but seldom, and when he 
did preach, to make a great effort. He thought it best for 



460 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

him to decline preaching on common occasions, and in unim- 
portant places, and to reserve himself for great occasions, 
and for places where he could produce a sensation. " Sir," 
said Fisk, " sooner than follow such advice as you give me, 
I would give up my commission, and not preach at all ; but, 
so long as I hold my commission to preach the gospel, I 
shall preach it, whenever and wherever I find souls to be 
saved." 

Mr. F.'s labors at this time were excessive in the extreme. 
He was the Professor of Moral Philosophy as well as Presi- 
dent ; the finances of the institution called for his most 
strenuous exertions to secure a permanent character for the 
college ; his relation to the Conferences imposed upon him 
important church trusts, in the defence of her doctrines and 
discipline ; he was peculiarly interested in the great moral 
movements of the day, especially throwing all the strength 
of his eloquence into appeals in behalf of the missionary 
operations of the church, and giving the Mission Board the 
valuable assistance of his quick suggestion and ripened judg- 
ment. It was not wonderful that, under the heavy pressure 
of so many duties upon a delicate constitution, his health 
should fail. The Joint Board of the University, anxious to 
retain the services of their president, and fearing the entire 
loss of his usefulness, requested him to take a voyage to 
Europe, both for the recovery of his health, and to advance 
the interests of the institution. Upon the eve of his sailing, 
Brown University, his Alma flfater, conferred upon him the 
degree of Doctor of Divinity, a degree that he had already 
received from another institution. 

He returned November 23d, 1836, somewhat improved 
in health, and gave his friends the benefit of his observations, 
in the form of a most interesting octavo, a volume widely 
circulated, and highly creditable to the author. During his 



WILBUR FISK. 461 

absence he had been elected to the highest office in the gift 
of his communion, that of Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, and some of his friends strenuously insisted upon his 
acceptance of it ; but convictions of duty again decided the 
question in favor of the University. But now his health 
began to decline, and the termination of his valuable services 
rapidly approached. 

* On the last night of the year 1838, Dr. Fisk attended 
the Watchnight in the Methodist church in Middletown, and 
preached the first sermon. His text was taken from the ad- 
dress of the patriarch Jacob to Pharaoh : " Few and evil 
have the days of the years of my life been, and have not 
attained unto the clays of the years of the life of my fath- 
ers in the days of their pilgrimage." It was touching to 
see him upon his elevated seat, for he was obliged to preach 
in a sitting posture, discoursing of live, death, immortality. 
Many of his thoughts and illustrations were striking and 
beautiful. He compared man, in the current of life, to a ves- 
sel in a whirlpool, borne round and round by the eddying 
current, offering feeble resistance, until it reached the vortex 
and disappeared. There was a remarkable appropriateness 
in the subject, which would have made it still more affecting 
had the event which soon followed been foreseen. 

His health declined rapidly, so that on the 8th of the 
ensuing February, a medical consultation was held upon his 
case. The decision was unfavorable to any prospect of his 
recovery, or of his long continuance. On learning the re- 
sult, Professor Johnston, who was with him soon after, says, 
" that it surprised him, yet he was perfectly calm, and began 
to arrange his affairs as though he was preparing for a 
pleasant journey." Then, after making some disposition 
of his papers with Professor Smith, his executor, he was 
assisted to his chair, in order to rest from the fatigue which 
his exertions had occasioned. Soon after being seated, he 
remarked in a whisper, for he was too weak to converse 
aloud, " What are all these things compared with the 

* The account of his last sickness we copy nearly entire from his memoir. 

39* 



462 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

welfare of an immortal soul ! " On being asked how the 
prospect of death now appeared to him, he immediately re- 
plied, " Death has no terrors to me ; but I have not that 
open vision of Heaven I could desire. Pray for me, that 
the prospect before me may brighten. I feel that my life 
has been a series of imperfections, and there is nothing that 
I can rest my hopes upon but the merits of Christ." Soon 
after, he added, " There are a few things I would like to 
see done before I am taken from this world ; but what am 
I, that I should have a hand in those things ? " and, after 
another pause, he proceeded, " There is the poor University ; 
but I hope you (meaning the professors) will stand by it, 
and that God will bless it." 

The scene, or rather, succession of scenes, which took 
place after this in his dying chamber, were in the highest 
degree instructive and elevating. It was almost an uninter- 
rupted exhibition of moral sublimity. Many received lessons 
of wisdom and piety there which they will never forget. To 
these a gentleman alluded who was in Paris in 1841, at the 
re-interment of the bones of Napoleon, who, after describing 
that gorgeous but heartless pageantry, observes, " As I 
looked upon the coffin, I could not feel veneration for Na- 
poleon ; the halo of true i;lory shone not around it. The 
chamber where I saw that good man, the late Dr. Wilbur 
Fisk, calmly and triumphantly meeting his fate, was to me a 
scene of infinitely higher and more enviable glory." We 
may be allowed, under such circumstances, to enter some- 
what fully into the particulars. 

To conceive properly of the situation of our sufferer, it 
ought to be understood, that such was his difficulty of breath- 
ing, that he was obliged to keep his chest as nearly as possi- 
ble in an erect posture. Though it was winter, but little fire 
could be kept in the room ; the door was always partly open, 
and then he required almost constant fanning to aid his res- 
piration. As he could not lay down more than one hour in 
twentv-four, the pain and weariness he endured were inde- 
scribable. Though his breathing was at all times laborious, 
he had frequent paroxysms of extreme violence, during which 
it appeared as though each breath would be his last. At 



WILBUR FISK. 463 

these seasons he could only gasp out a word or a syllable at 
a time. Much of what we shall record was uttered in that 
manner. 

And, first, of his lowly views of himself and of his own 
labors, we have clear and strong testimony. Thus at one 
time he said, 

" When I look back, I wonder at the little I have done. 
And what is rest to me, " (he had just been speaking of rest 
in Heaven,) " that I should indulge anticipations of it, 
while there are so many unconverted in the world, going 
down to eternal woe ? I see much to be done ; but any ac- 
tive mind can do it : and the work of God is in his own 
hands. He can do without me. What am I, or my father's 
house, that God should have honored me to share in the min- 
istry of the gospel ? I bless him that he has made me the 
humble instrument of doing any thing — the least thing — 
for him. It is all of grace. Boasting is excluded. The 
glory is all his, the shame all mine. I want a score of 
years more to do any thing like what a man ought to do in 
the course of his life." 

And again : a O, how little have I done ! 0, the many 
deficiences ! I feel constrained to ask forgiveness of the 
Church and of the world." * * "I shall be a star of 
small magnitude, but it is a wonder that I shall get to 
heaven at all. It is because love works miracles, that such 
a feeble, sinful worm may be saved by grace. 0, the mercy 
of God, to put such comeliness on such a worm as I ! I am 
an unprofitable servant. How little have I done of what I 
might have done ! " 

When one remarked to him that he " knew of no one in 
whose life there were fewer things to regret," he replied, 
" I do not feel so at all. I feel full of imperfections and 
frailties." 

Thus, " having no confidence in the flesh," all his hope 
of salvation rested on the atonement of the Lamb. " What 
a blessed state to be in," he observed, " to be any thing 
God pleases. The will of God appears unspeakably beau- 
tiful to me ; but, alas ! I fair of fulfilling it in a great many 
ways. But, for all this, I have thrown myself on the mercy 



464 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

of God in Christ Jesus. 0, yes ! I feel that my soul is cen- 
tred in the love of God in Christ Jesus." Thus, again — 
" If I have been instrumental in a little good, I thank God 
for it. I am an unprofitable servant. All my hope is in 
Christ." At another time, apparently at the close of some 
train of silent thought, he said, " Rights ? I have no rights, 
but my Saviour has rights ; and he bestows them on me. It 
is all of grace." 

Once only did he experience any peculiar temptation or 
mental conflict. In the early part of his illness, he remarked 
that "the enemy was thrusting sore" at him, and imme- 
diately said to the Rev. Horace Bartlett, " If you have any 
faith, pray." When the prayer was closed, he expressed 
his deliverance from the gathering cloud, and from that time 
nothing seemed to obstruct his view of his Saviour and the 
better world. 

His faith in the truths of Christianity never wavered. 
When asked if he still believed the doctrines which he had 
preached to others, he replied, with emphasis, " Yes ; they 
are God's truths, and will bear the light of eternity." 

He always entertained lofty views of the nature and holy 
privileges of the Christian ministry. Thus, when the Rev. 
Messrs. Granger and Tyler, of the Congregational church, 
called to see him, "he immediately," says the former, "be- 
gan to converse about the solemn responsibilities of the min- 
istry," observing, " I hope you will give the trumpet a 
more certain sound than I have ever done." On Mr. G.'s 
saying to him, " Our ' Lord had need of him ' in the higher 
employments of heaven," he replied, " It may be : I have 
often thought, too, that the occupation in heaven would be 
to do God's will and promote his glory. When I surren- 
dered myself to the cause of God, it was a full surrender to 
do his will, any where and any how, as he would please ; and 
perhaps I may be employed in some way to advance the 
cause of redemption on earth." 

To the Rev. Mr. Cookson, of the Baptist church, he said, 
" I am leaving the walls, but I leave you on them. God 
bless you, and make you more faithful in sounding the 
gospel trumpet than I have been. 0, the responsibilities 



WILBUR FISK. 465 

of a minister ! 0, may not the blood of souls be found on 
our skirts ! " 

Mr. Cookson inquired if he felt the expression of the 
venerable Wesley, " The best of all is, God is with us." 
" yes," he replied, " nature indeed is yielding, but God 
remains." 

He was always remarkably fond of singing, and often 
requested that some of his favorite hymns might be sung. 
Among these was the one in the Methodist Collection, com- 
mencing, 

" Jesus, the name high over all ; " 

of the last stanzas of which, 

" Happy if with my latest breath 
I may but gasp his name, 
Preach him to all, and cry in death, 
Behold, behold the Lamb ! " 

he was particularly fond, requesting that it might be sung 
more than once. And when, at his request, Dr. Watts' 
hymn was sung, commencing, 

" Lord, in thy temple we appear," 

he repeated the last stanzas distinctly in a whisper, thus : 

"Jesus, the vision of thy face 
Hath overpowering charms ; 
Scarce shall I feel Death's cold embrace, 
If thou be in my arms. 

" And while you hear my heartstrings break, 
How sweet my momeuts roll ; 
A mortal paleness on my cheek, 
But glory in my soul." 

Sunday, the 10th of February, was a day of uncommon 
interest and solemnity. There was not the least prospect of 
his recovery, so that it was not thought necessary to restrain 
him from conversing ; and yet his strength was not so far 
exhausted as to prevent the free play of his mind and feel- 
ings. The scene in his chamber was transccndently eleva- 
ting. In the morning he asked Mrs. Fisk what day it was. 



466 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

On ascertaining, he observed, " This would be a good day 
to die." " Perhaps," said Mrs. Fisk, " the Lord will take 
you to his rest this day." " Then I can worship," was his 
answer, " with the Sabbath-keeping band in heaven ; but I 
cannot here." On being told that he always loved the Sab- 
bath, " Yes," he replied ; " and though it was a day of toil 
to me, yet I loved my work. To me the Sabbath has been 
an emblem of that promised rest. 0, that rest is sweet ! It 
is glorious ! " 

He then beckoned Martha to him, saying, " Let us pray 
together ; " and, throwing an arm round each of them as 
they knelt before him, he offered up a prayer, gasping it out 
word by word, which seemed the very language of the spir- 
itual world. It was deep, pathetic, powerful, sublime. 
Then, as they arose from their knees, he said, " Vain human 
reasoners often tell us that the soul and the body will go 
down together to the dust, because the spirit is depressed 
when the body is ; but it is not true. These clogs of earth 
have often retarded the operations of my mind, and been as 
so many barriers to its activity. But I now feel a strength 
of soul and an energy of mind, which this body, though 
afflicted and pained, cannot impair. 

" The soul has an energy of its own ; and so far from my 
body pressing my soul down to the dust, I feel as if my soul 
had almost power to raise the body upward and bear it away; 
and it will at last, by the power of God, effectually draw it 
to heaven, for its attractions are thitherward." Then, 
turning to Mrs. Fisk, he said, " Think not, when you see 
this poor feeble body stretched in death, that that is your 
husband. no ! your husband will have escaped free and 
liberated from every clog ! He will have new-plumed his 
glad wings, and soared away through the ethereal regions to 
that celestial city of light and love ! What ! talk of burying 
your husband ! No, never. Your husband cannot be 
buried ! he will be in heaven. His body may be ; and let 
it go and mingle with its mother earth : why should yom 
lament ? And yet I love this body, notwithstanding it has 
so often been a hinderance to the aspirations of my mind ; 
for it has been an old companion of mine. It lias cost me 



WILBUR FISK. 467 



much care and pain, its tendency being continually to decay ; 
and though it may lie long in the grave, it shall be raised, 
and I shall see it again ; for I hope to be united with it, but 
with none of its infirmities, with none of its moral, deformi- 
ties. Yes, every particle of this dust shall be raised and 
changed, in the twinkling of an eye, on the morning of the 
resurrection. Then it will be freed from all its infirmities. 
It will have no lame limbs, no weak lungs. It will be refined 
from all its gross particles. It will be buoyant and ethereal, 
glorious and immortal ! It will be perfect, for it will be 
fashioned like unto Christ's most glorious body, and united 
with the soul for ever ! " 

The above sublime sentiments were uttered with the 
greatest difficulty, when almost every moment it appeared 
as though the power of respiration must cease. 

His last communications with his family were in keeping 
with his character. Perceiving Mrs. Fisk's overwhelming 
grief, on ascertaining the decision of the physicians in his 
case, " My dear wife," he said, " I have always loved you ; 
I have loved to love you ; and you were never dearer to 
me than at this moment. But do not distress my dying 
moments with your grief. This ought not so to be. I have 
a great work to do : you must help me by your prayers. I 
have always thought I should outlive you, and have always 
prayed that this cup might never be yours ; that it might be 
reserved for me ; for I know how unable you are to bear it ! 
But God seems determining otherwise. Bear it? You can- 
not bear it ! But God will help you ; for he has prom- 
ised to be the widow's God and husband, and he will not 
fail ! " At this time, also, beckoning Mrs. Fisk's mother 
and Martha to him, he offered up, as they knelt around 
him, a prayer most touching and beautiful. 

At a later period of his illness, on Mrs. Fisk expressing 
her grief, he said, " I fear you do not give me up. 0, give 
me up to God. Our tie will not be sundered ; it will only 
be strengthened by a purer hope. God will be your hus- 
band : rely on him in simple faith, and all shall be well." 

At another time he said, " Our parting will not be long. 
Time seems to me like a mere point. Eternity swallows up 



4G8 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

all." * * * " Imagination's utmost stretch cannot mea- 
sure eternity. Oh, my dear, build your hopes on nothing 
but Jesus, and him crucified ! The doctrines of the cross 
only have efficacy to raise you to heaven, where I trust we 
shall soon meet. Oh, then shall we be in possession of those 
beauties which charm the angels, and bind them to the 
throne of God." 

Deep was the sorrow which filled the hearts of the stu- 
dents of the University, on learning his present condition ; 
with earnestness they desired a parting interview with their 
revered instructor and guardian. He desired that they 
might all be admitted. On seeing them at the door of his 
chamber, he beckoned them to approach, and, as they came 
one by one, he gave each his feeble hand, and bade them an 
affectionate farewell, adapting his advice or admonition to 
each with admirable discernment and propriety. It was 
remarkable that, though not less than a hundred — it was 
just the commencement of the term, and many of the stu- 
dents had not yet arrived — received his dying counsel, yet 
to no two did he speak alike. The impression on the minds 
of the students was very deep. One of them, in a letter to 
another, who was absent, says, " ! what a scene was this ! 
I may forget the name of my father, and know not the 
mother who bore me, as soon as will the memory of that day 
pass from me." 

The reader has had ample proof of his love of labor, and 
the following remarks show how he looked upon this subject 
now. Hearing Mrs. Fisk say something about his life being 
sacrificed, he looked up and said, " Sacrifice — sacrifice — 
what did you say ?" and, on being asked if he did not know 
what his physicians said of his case, he replied, " Yes ; 
they say my nervous system is prostrated ; and that, to be 
sure, looks like it. But it is too late now." A few minutes 
after, having been placed in his chair, he said, " I do not 
know but my friends will think I have done wrong in exert- 
ing myself so much — and I do not know but I have ; but I 
have not intended it. It is, however, much more pleasant to 
me now to look back, and feel that I have endeavored to 
exert myself to the utmost of my strength — for you know I 



WILBUR FISK. -109 

could do but little at best — than it would be to look back on 
a life of idleness. We were not placed here to be idle ; no, 
nor shall we be idle in heaven. I feel, indeed, as if I 
should hardly want to go there if I thought I should be idle. 
If the Lord take me away, he has something for me to do ; 
for he never gave me such an energy of soul as I now feel 
that I have, without designing to employ it." 

One of his attendant physicians, Dr. Woodward, was sent 
for by another patient. As he was leaving the room, Dr. 
Fisk said, " The doctor will not leave me now. I feel that 
the paroxysm will be very severe." But on being told that 
it was to a lady, who was very sick, he said, " Oh, then, let 
him go ; " and immediately said to Mrs. Fisk, " We must 
pray for her," immediately closing his eyes as if to engage 
in silent prayer. Thus, in his own deepest agony, he had 
sympathy to bestow on others, and was ready to part with 
assistance even, which he needed for himself. 

We have already observed that our patient sufferer, owing 
to his difficulty in respiration, was unable to lie but an hour 
or two in twenty-four, and that but for very brief periods. 
He sat in his chair, supported by pillows, which needed to 
be differently placed every few minutes, to change his posi- 
tion and give him relief. His pain and weariness were un- 
utterable. This fact gave rise to some painfully interesting 
remarks. Thus, at one time, after he had lain on the bed a 
few moments, he said, " I can find no rest — tried the bed, 
but my body is sore all over. I cannot lie on it. What 
must a man do when he can neither lie nor sit ? weary, 
weary me ! When shall I find rest — rest in the grave ? " 
Again, after a fruitless effort to lie down, he said, " I have 
always thought I should have a lingering sickness, but an 
easy death. I would like to have my bed my dying pillow ; 
but my Saviour died on the cross." He then repeated the 
stanza, commencing, 

11 How bitter that cup," 

and ending, 

" Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall /repine V " 

At another time, when nature seemed exhausted and life 
40 



470 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

was fast ebbing out, as lie was lifted from the bed to his 
chair, he sighed forth, " From the chair to the throne ! " 

During the entire period of his unparalleled sufferings, his 
patience was wonderful. No expression of dissatisfaction 
escaped him, nor any appearance of peevishness or irritation, 
even under the greatest distress, nor when disappointed of 
expected relief. Thus, on one occasion, after many ineffec- 
tual attempts to ease his pain and weariness by changing his 
position, at length looking up, with one of his sweet smiles, 
he said, " We will try to make it do. I hope you will not 
think me impatient because I want moving so often." At 
another time he remarked, " I hope I am not impatient ; I 
groan and sigh a great deal ; and I have, perhaps, been in 
the habit of it all my life," (no one else thought so) "but 
I hope it is not impatience ; and I think it is not. It is 
only one of Nature's own methods of expressing her agony ; 
and I do not know but she finds relief in that way." 

After a season of intense anguish, he said, " All this and 
not death ? I thought I was almost home ; but if the Lord 
bid me suffer, I would say, ' Thy will be done ! ' I would 
have no will but his. Oh, it is sweet to sink into the will 
of God, and feel that all is well ! " 

It was admirable to observe how, while consciousness re- 
mained, Dr. Fisk maintained his individuality. He was 
himself throughout ; only each grace, each virtue, shining, 
if possible, with increased radiance. For thus 

" The unrobing spirit cast 
" Diviner glories to the last." 

This was partly seen in his observations to the great variety 
of persons who visited him in the chamber of death. He 
had no stereotyped phrases, which retain their form when 
their original import is evaporated. He uttered his own 
unpremeditated thoughts and feelings, addressing each one 
with admirable judgment and adaptation, and wonderful 
variety. Thus, to an aged physician, who called as a friend 
to see him, he remarked, " You see, sir, this poor, suffering 
body, fast wasting away : yes, it will soon see corruption. 
But the kernel must decay, that the germ may come forth 



WILBUR FISK. 471 

in immortal beauty. The Saviour's love has purchased it 
for sinful man!" And to a gentleman, with whom he had 
been often engaged in transacting business for the Univer- 
sity, he remarked, as he held out his feeble hand to greet 
him on his entrance, " You see me here, sir, hovering be- 
tween two worlds : " " And fit for either," was the expres- 
sive answer. 

February 14th, as his regular physician, Dr. Miner, was 
examining his pulse, he faintly said, " Why do you examine 
the pulse without prescribing ? Is it low ? " " Yes, sir, 
very low." " Is it fluttering ? " " Not yet, sir." " Not 
yet?" he replied, faintly ; and then sighed out, " The hour 
of release is at hand." 

On the 19th, as one came into the room, he said, " I am 
going very fast — filling up with water — feet and hands 
swelling more ; " at the same time rubbing his hands 
together. At another time, as he extended his dying hand 
to greet a friend who had been sent for, he said, " I believe 
I am going," and soon after broke out in a distinct though 
interrupted articulation, 

" ' There is my house and portion fair, 
My treasure and my friends are there ; ' 

some of them, at least, and the rest are on their way." And 
on being asked if he still believed in the doctrines which he 
had preached, he answered, " I do. They are God's truths, 
and will bear the light of eternity. I should be glad to be 
favored with more ecstatic joy. As I draw near the celes- 
tial world, it seems desirable to have a bright view of its 
glories." To the Rev. Ilcman Bangs, who came to see him 
in his last moments, and said that he had " dreamed of see- 
ing him in his sick chamber, and that the room seemed filled 
with coruscations of glory," he replied, " I have not those 
coruscations of glory — those bright visions of the heavenly 
world, but I have a fixed peace." 

Thus he continued, gradually sinking into unconsciousness, 
from which it became increasingly difficult to arouse him ; 
nevertheless, when aroused, his mind seemed perfectly clear. 
On the 20th, when articulation was rapidly failing him, a 



472 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

friend said to him, " You suffer a great deal of distress, sir, 
from fatigue and exhaustion ; but it must be over soon : and 
how sweet is rest to a weary man. There is a place ' where 
the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' " 
He responded distinctly, "Bless God for that!" And on 
the 21st, when he w r as still farther sunk into coma, the same 
friend coming into the room, said, " I have come to see you 
again, sir; do you know me?" Pressing his hand, he said 
in a whisper, " Yes ; glorious hope ! " After this, when 
Mrs. Fisk took his hand and inquired if he knew her, he 
returned the pressure, saying, " Yes, love, yes." These, 
we believe, were the last words he uttered. He lingered on 
our mortal shores until the next day, when, about ten o'clock 
in the forenoon, his redeemed and now disenthralled spirit 
took its flight to its kindred skies, to mingle with the Church 
of the first-born, and join the anthems of the celestial choir. 
Thus the anniversary of the day that gave a hero and a 
patriot to the world, is the anniversary of the day that gave 
another sanctified spirit to Paradise. Let the names of 
Washington and Fisk, both great in their respective depart- 
ments, blend in future unison. Their happy spirits have 
long since greeted each other in the plains of the brighter 
world above. 

" Though to-night the seed be sown in gloom, 

Amid darkness, and tears, and sorrow, 
It shall spring from the tomb, in immortal bloom, 

On the bright and glorious morrow. 
The tears that we shed o'er holy dust, 

Are the tribute of human sadness : 
But the grave holds in trust the remains of the just, 

Till the day of eternal gladness." 



DAVID MARKS. 473 



DAY ID MARKS. 

The subject of the following notice was born in Shenda- 
ken, Ulster county, N. Y., November 4th, 1805. 

At the early age of eleven years, through the faithful in- 
structions of a pious mother, and the combined influences of 
the Divine Spirit and providences, he solemnly consecrated 
himself to the service of God, deeply penitent for his sins. 
He was blessed with a very lively sense of pardon and the 
approbation of his Heavenly Father, and commenced under 
peculiarly unfavorable circumstances, the most diligent dis- 
charge of his Christian duties. He says of himself at this 
time, " Though my opportunity at school had been small, I 
had fortunately succeeded in learning to read a little, yet 
not without spelling many of the words. My anxiety to 
become acquainted with the Scriptures was very great. Yet 
as my parents were poor, and in a new country, we had to 
endure many privations. Generally, labor occupied all my 
time during the day, and it being difficult for us to obtain 
candles, I resorted to the expedient of climbing trees to 
procure the bark of the hickory, which burns with much 
flame ; and by the light of this fire, I commenced reading 
the Bible, with anxious interest and a prayerful heart, fre- 
quently continuing my studies two or three hours after the 
family had retired." 

His parents observing the marked change in his char- 
acter, and his peculiar devotion to God, were impressed 
with the conviction that God designed him to be an instru- 
ment in his spiritual field, for the salvation of his fellow 
men. Esteeming a course of thorough study indispensable, 
they concluded to excuse him from the labors of the farm, 
and to send him to a free school, as they were unable to 
40* 



474 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

incur any expense in his education. But he says, " Having 
heard that in Providence, Rhode Island, provision was made 
for educating the indigent, I left home alone at the age of 
thirteen, in compliance with the wishes of my parents, to 
travel on foot, among strangers, the distance of 368 miles, 
expecting to be absent five or six years. My Heavenly 
Father provided me friends. Strangers, when they learned 
the object of my journey, were very kind, often bestowing a 
little money to pay my expenses : sometimes they would 
weep, and express much surprise upon seeing a child alone, 
so far from home. At times, while thinking of my friends 
beneath the paternal roof, lonely and solitary feelings 
weighed down my spirit: yet the Lord of Hosts was my 
comforter. * * * In twelve days I reached Providence, 
and was kindly received by Mr. Messers, President of Brown 
University, to whom I delivered a letter from my parents. 
After a stay of two days, he informed me that tuition would 
be free, but no provision was made for board and clothing ; 
and advised me to go to an institution in Massachusetts, 
where he thought a reception would be afforded agreeably 
to my wishes." 

Nothing daunted by the ill success of his present effort for 
a good education, he immediately started for his home again, 
intending to seek a free school in Hamilton, N. Y., prefer- 
ring not -to meet with another rebuff at the academy in Mas- 
sachusetts. At the almost unprecedented age of fifteen 
years, he felt himself inwardly moved to preach the gospel. 
He had connected himself with the Free Will Baptist church 
in the vicinity of his home, and had faithfully attended all 
the religious meetings within his reach, warning and exhort- 
ing, especially those of his own age, to shun the paths of sin, 
and to seek after a new heart and a holy life. He now felt 
that God called him to a wider sphere of usefulness. He 



DAVID MARKS. 475 

was conscious of a powerful and almost irresistible impulse 
in his heart, bidding him Gro and preach the gospel. His 
time and labor were now quite necessary and valuable to his 
father ; but being fully convinced that his son was set apart 
by the Spirit for a higher office, he cheerfully and with 
gushing tears bade him go — and sought the blessing of 
God upon him. His extreme youth and unstudied and 
melting eloquence, drew immense crowds to his preaching. 
His labors were confined to no one vicinity, but with un- 
quenchable ardor he sought throughout the adjoining country, 
in private houses, in the open fields, and in churches, oppor- 
tunities to preach the gospel of Christ. His tours extended 
over the western part of New York ; he penetrated into 
Canada, and made several preaching excursions into the 
New England States. The most overwhelming effects some- 
times followed his discourses, and multitudes professed to 
embrace religion under his labors. 

Feeling the lack of a more thorough education, and still 
burning with zeal for his Master's service, he procured, at 
great sacrifices, a few text books, and applied himself with 
the utmost diligence, in all his vacant hours, to make up for 
his deficiencies ; he even was accustomed to carry his book 
with him, and study on horseback, or as he walked from 
one appointment to another. Mr. Marks' usefulness and 
success increased with his years, and as he became generally 
known to the denomination of which he was a member, he 
was looked upon as one of their most efficient and judicious 
ministers. At this time the denomination had not become 
consolidated; and, saving a few prominent points of doctrine, 
there was no strong bond of sympathy between the different 
local churches. Mr. Marks and others saw the want of a 
more permanent organization, and a settled creed. Under 
his supervision, in connection with others, by great personal 



476 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

sacrifices and extraordinary exertions, a Book Concern and a 
denominational paper were established in 1831, and, after- 
wards, at the request of the General Conference, he pre- 
pared a book of discipline, with a digested creed. 

During his connection with the financial business of the 
church, a Home and Foreign Mission Society was instituted, 
and important educational movements were set in operation. 

After all these vital measures were secured, and his 
immediate presence was no longer necessary in the Concern, 
he surrendered the business into the hands of an. adequate 
Board appointed by the church, and again started out upon 
his wide evangelical field, preaching the gospel with his usual 
success. 

The sincerity and depth of his piety at this time will 
appear from a perusal of the following severe, but whole- 
some, rules of holy living, which he drew up for the govern- 
ment of his life and heart. 

DAVID MARKS' LAST RESOLUTIONS, 

MADE FOR LIFE, AT QUEENSTON, U. C. 

Dec. 23d, 3 o'clock, P. M. in the year of my Lord, 1835. 

" Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is 
perfect." — Jesus Cueist. 

Resolutions. By the grace of God, I do solemnly make 
the following resolutions, and determine to read them as 
often as once a week, and to keep them faithfully all the 
days of my life. And, nay blessed Saviour, I pray that 
thou wouldst keep me steadfast to the end. Amen. 

David Marks. 

I. With regard to ray thoughts. 1. I will indulge in no 
reflections nor meditations which I believe will not be useful 
to me ; but the moment when vain suggestions first approach, 
I will thrust them from me. 2.1 will not think a great deal 
upon worldly subjects, or, at least, not so much as to prevent 
my meditation being upon God's law day and night. 3. I 



DAVID MARKS. 477 

will endeavor to spend twenty minutes before every meal in 
close examination and meditation. 

II. My motives. 1. I will always endeavor to have but 
one motive to lead me forward and influence me to act in 
every thing, and this motive shall be to glorify my Maker. 
2. I will endeavor to examine carefully my secret motives 
in all I do, and when I discover that my motive is not pure, 
and for God's glory, and this alone, I will not be led by it, 
but resist it. 

III. In relation to my temper. 1. I will endeavor al- 
ways to keep it calm and without irritability. 2. I will 
strive hard to be always meek and patient in all circum- 
stances. 3. I will endeavor to be deliberate in all things, 
and holy in all my inclinations and feelings. 

IY. As to my deeds. 1 . I will aim to do nothing except 
w T hat, on examination, I believe to be directly or indirectly 
commanded by God. 2. I will endeavor to perform no 
deeds, which I am convinced are merely selfish. 3. I will 
do nothing which I would be ashamed to have known, were 
it by accident or by necessity to become public. 4. I will 
not overdo body or mind, but endeavor to lay out my work 
according to the strength which God shall give, so as never 
to bring myself into temptation by needless perplexity. 

Y. As a Christian. 1. I will endeavor to make my 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, my guide, leader, pattern, 
and example. 2. I will never be ashamed of Christ, nor to 
own myself a Christian in any company, nor, from fear of 
reproach, neglect to introduce religion in any place where I 
believe the effect would be salutary. 3. I will never con- 
form to any of the fashions, manners, and customs of the 
world, except I am first convinced of their utility in them- 
selves considered, unless it be in a case where a variation 
would be likely to do more harm than conformity. 4. I 
will endeavor to kneel and pray in secret three times a day, 
viz., when I rise, at noon, and on going to bed ; and I will 
strive always to have my whole soul engaged in prayer when 
my lips are. 5. I will endeavor never to pray to be heard 
of men, nor merely to continue a form, but always pray for 
what I want and nothing else. 6. I will endeavor always to 



478 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

attend family worship before breakfast, and before supper, 
both at home and abroad, except in such cases as I shall 
judge it duty to omit it. 

VI. As a minister. 1. I will labor constantly to be 
intelligent, and for this purpose I will attentively read three 
chapters in the Bible by course every day, and will endeavor 
to spend two hours each day in scientific studies, two hours 
in theological studies, and two hours in writing. 2. I will 
always endeavor to spend one hour before every sermon, and 
every other religious meeting I may attend, in study and 
reflection, preparatory for the sacred services, when I can 
consistently with other duties. 3. I will endeavor always 
to introduce religious conversation and prayer in all places 
where my lot may be cast, and among all kinds of company, 
unless, indeed, other circumstances forbid, so that it is evi- 
dently duty to omit such services. 4. I will always improve 
every opportunity to reprove sin : still I will endeavor to do 
it with meekness and affection, both publicly and privately. 
5. I will endeavor to spend one hour every day in religious 
visiting and conversation, and always endeavor to visit and 
pray with two families each day, one of whom shall be a 
family I never visited before. 6. I will always endeavor to 
instruct the ignorant with meekness and patience. 

VII. As a husband. 1. I will always be attentive to 
learn and supply the wants of my dear wife. 2. I will never 
be impatient, quick, nor fretful, nor disposed to fault finding. 
3, I will never be morose. 4. I will always be attentive. 
5. I will always be affectionate. 6. I will always be very 
kind. 7. I will never be impolite. 8. I will always be 
sociable. 9. I will always be respectful. 

VIII. As a citizen. 1. I will carefully read and con- 
sider the things of public interest, and faithfully serve the 
public. 2. I will always treat rulers with respect. 3. Still 
I will be faithful to truth and justice. 4. I will faithfully 
warn my country of its dangers. 5. I will be courteous, 
and obliging, and kind to all men. 

IX. In relation to my ivords. 1. They shall be few. 
2. They shall be well considered. 3. They shall be always 
serious. 4. They shall be always plain. 5. They shall 



DAVID MAEKS. 479 

never be slanderous. 6. They shall always be kind. 7. 
They shall never exaggerate truth. 8. They shall always 
be designed to do good. 9. I will always be cautious what 
I say and to whom I say it. 10. I will always endeavor to 
think carefully before I speak, especially when circumstances 
do not absolutely demand that I should speak immediately. 
11. I will always, when with Christians and ministers, en- 
deavor, according to my ability, to discern what duties they 
neglect, and encourage them to renewed diligence and faith- 
fulness. 12. I will endeavor always, according to my abil- 
ity, to be teaching sinners their guilt, and their duty to 
repent immediately. 13. I will strive always to be cour- 
teous to my friends, but never flattering. 14. In my public 
addresses, I will endeavor to have all my words solemn. 
15. In private they shall be guarded. 16. All my conver- 
sation shall be religious or strictly conformable to religious 
principles. 

X. As to my temporal concerns. 1. I will not be a slave. 
2. Nor will I be anxious. 3. I will not be covetous. 4. I 
will not be wasteful. 5. Neither will I be selfish. 6. I 
will not be profuse. 7. Neither will I be gay. 8. I will 
always endeavor to drive my work and never let that drive 
me. 9. I will be very cautious of getting embarrassed in 
my temporal affairs. 10. I will endeavor to contract no 
needless expenses. 11. I will endeavor to devote all I have 
to God, either directly or indirectly. 12. So long as my 
income from my labors, and those of my wife, amounts to 
$400 per year, I will give, that is, payout, $100 per annum 
for benevolent purposes. 13. So long as the Lord prospers 
me, I will give, that is, pay out, twenty-five per cent of the 
increase of my property to God, the estimate to be made 
January 1, 1836. 

XI. As to my sleep. I will endeavor to sleep eight hours 
in the winter, and seven hours in the summer, or at least lie 
in bed these number of hours ; and these hours shall be 
equally before and after midnight, or at least between nine 
and five o'clock. 

XII. As to general duties. 1. I will endeavor that all 
my preaching shall be affectionate. 2. 1 will endeavor, when 



480 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

circumstances and other duties will permit, to preach from 
five to seven times per week. 3. I will always labor to feel 
what I preach. 4. In labors, meetings of business, &c. &c, 
I will be very cautious of giving offence, yet be firm to truth. 
5. I will watch my opportunities to visit those that are in 
prison. 6. I will also often visit those that are confined in 
alms-houses. 7. I will frequently visit the sick. 8. I will 
use the best economy I can in all my expenses, and in all 
things. 9. I will be kind to the poor, and especially to 
those who are my relatives. 10. Finally, if hereafter I find 
any good thing not included in these resolutions, I will prac- 
tise the same. 11. I will read these resolutions every week 
for at least five years, if I live, and try to keep them without 
the least variation. 

Subsequently he added the following: "1. I will ever 
watch against coarseness, abruptness, and a dogmatical man- 
ner of speaking, and will labor constantly to abound and 
excel in meekness, mildness, complaisance, and sociability, 
being always neat, kind, gentle, instructive, obliging, and 
agreeable, before all classes of men, but especially when with 
my dearest friend. May God enable me always to be 
faithful, kind, and obliging to her. 2. In all my conversa- 
tion, I will labor to be humble, gentle, candid, without self- 
conceit, or ostentation, always showing a deference to the opin- 
ions of others, especially those of the aged and the learned. 

3. I will endeavor never to speak a hasty or impatient 
word, however great a provocation I may receive, but will 
always aim to be deliberate, swift to hear and slow to speak. 

4. I will reprove tenderly every instance of wickedness I 
witness among friends or foes. 5. I will endeavor to use 
all my strength and energies, both of body and mind, so as 
to do the greatest possible amount of good. jf^lf Remember 
this. 6. I will aim at perfection in all I do with body or 
mind, $@^T Do n't forget the extent of this rule. 7. Fi- 
nally, I will make holiness of heart and life the only object 
of my living, that I may be prepared to glorify God and 
save souls." 

In a revision and adoption of his rules, August 2d, 1837, 



DAVID MARKS. 481 

he superscribed them his " Golden, life-bound, perfect, irre- 
versible, manly, self-abasing, God-honoring, invaluable reso- 
lutions," and signed his name with a seal. 

His evangelical labors in various parts of the country were 
continued until 1843. He was then 38 years of age, and 
he now commenced with his wonted ardor the renewal of his 
studies. His later appointments had been in Ohio, and in 
connection with the Western Reserve Education Society. 
He placed his family at Oberlin, and engaged to preach at 
stated periods, in four churches, in the vicinity, two of them 
eight miles, one of them nine miles, and the other twenty 
from Oberlin, he spending with them about three days in the 
week, including Sunday. The associate churches were to 
raise $300 for his support. He joined the freshman class 
of the Oberlin institute, and in addition to all his pastoral 
labors easily kept up with his younger classmates. " For- 
merly, when he travelled, as night came on, he had laid his 
book aside, except when the full moon shone, but now he 
adopted the expedient of carrying a lantern, and studying 
by its light, as he returned from his evening meetings." In 
speaking of his present plan to a friend, he writes : "lam 
now settled in Oberlin, with a fixed and unalterable deter- 
mination, if the Lord will, to pursue those studies needful 
for preparing me to enter college — then to take a thorough 
and regular course through college and theology. I have 
not blundered into these purposes. They are not the result 
of any sudden excitement, but of careful, prayerful, and 
sincere examination of duty for years. I take this course 
from the full conviction that I can do far more good, if I 
should live but a few years after its completion, than I could 
accomplish in any other way." He was induced, however, 
by earnest entreaties, to spend a few months in New Eng- 
41 



482 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

land, in collecting subscriptions for, and in awakening an 
interest in, a suffering denominational academy, and then, 
having been successful, he returned to his beloved studies. 
But his work was nearly done. His excessive labors had 
broken down an iron constitution. He had several severe 
attacks of sickness from which he had recovered, but now he 
became the subject of certain dropsical affections, which in- 
creased rapidly upon him. Rest was prescribed for his 
weary frame, and was attended with encouraging results, 
but upon the first symptoms of a favorable change he is at 
his exhausting labors again. We have space only to extract 
the account of his final labors, sufferings and triumphs, from 
his Memoirs, edited by his surviving widow. • 

• On the Sabbath he attended worship at Oberlin, which, 
as near as can be recollected, was the last Sabbath he ever 
spent in an earthly sanctuary. He walked to the meeting 
house, perhaps a quarter of a mile distant. At noon, he 
dined with Professor Finney, lay down on a sofa most of the 
time during the intermission, meanwhile conversing with 
much animation. At the close of the afternoon service, he 
walked home, stopping by the way at President Mahan's to 
rest. Pie was again very cheerful, conversed about the 
prospect of his returning health, and remarked that he 
thought he should yet be able to preach the glorious and 
blessed gospel. The President said he thought so too. 
About the middle of October, he rode out one morning to 
attend to what he thought was indispensable business. The 
air was chilly — he took cold, and shortly after, his dropsical 
symptoms returned, with aggravated violence. His phy- 
sician, who was about to leave on a journey to Massachu- 
setts, to be absent several weeks, tried to encourage him to 
hope for another removal of those symptoms ; gave him some 
general prescriptions, and charged him to be very cautious 
of future exposures, as they might bring on a relapse that 
would terminate fatally. He faithfully followed the direc- 
tions of his physician ; but his disorder steadily increased, 



DAVID MARKS. 483 

while his soul seemed absorbed in heavenly contemplations. 
He often said his hopes of recovery were again very faint, 
and talked almost incessantly, in the most touching strains, 
about the reality and consolation of the Christian's hope, the 
resurrection, the work of the " spirit-land,' ' and the glories 
of heaven. Still none of his friends were particularly 
alarmed, as he had several times been apparently much 
worse. He had recently heard of the death of his oldest 
brother in Illinois, and they attributed his conversing so 
much about his own departure, to the effect of this intelli- 
gence upon his mind. He continued declining, and finally 
began to speak of the certainty of his dissolution, in a more 
positive manner than he ever had before. His companion, 
now fearing that he was about to be removed, commenced 
recording a very few of his many remarks for her own con- 
solation, in case he should soon pass away. These memor- 
anda are as follows ; but they give a very faint and imperfect 
idea of the glorious and affecting scenes of his closing life. 
To those who had the invaluable, the blessed privilege of 
seeing the angelic expression of his countenance, and hearing 
his heavenly words, his very room seemed often " quite the 
verge of heaven." 

October 28th, Tuesday. My dear husband said to me he 
was decided that there was in his case no hope of recovery. 
It was a great trial to his mind to lift the veil and tell me we 
must part, but he felt sure he should stay but a little time. 
He knew my trial was much greater than his ; said he ten- 
derly sympathized with me. He well remembered his own 
feelings when, watching by my sick bed, he expected to be 
left, and felt that he knew not how to endure it. " But I 
bless God," said he, " that in mercy he has so constituted 
us that the poignancy of grief will wear away. ' Though 
sorrow endure for a night, joy will come in the morning.' 
We have lived together as Christians. More than sixteen 
years God has given us to each other. They have been 
happy years, blessed with the most perfect mutual confi- 
dence and affection. In a little time we shall be re-united, 
and when your work is done, I shall joyfully welcome your 



484 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

spirit to that better land." What he did, he added, must 
be done quickly. He wanted to write letters to his friends, 
also a farewell address to his beloved denomination, and to 
the world, while his strength remained. He wished to be 
carried to the house of worship, to give one more public tes- 
timony for God, to speak once more to the students prepar- 
ing for the ministry. Pie was very happy, felt his work was 
done. He had loved it exceedingly, though for years he 
had labored in great weakness of body. Now -he was going 
where he could work without sleep, and labor without 
fatigue. [At this date he had no alarming symptoms except 
being weaker.] 

October 30th. He wrote thus to his youngest brother. 
" My dear brother Jeremiah : — Your letter of the 4th inst., 
bringing the painful tidings of our brother's death, was duly 
received. So our dear brother Friend has gone — gone to 
his long home — gone to the spirit world — to receive, while 
endless ages roll on, according to the deeds done in the 
body ! And soon we must follow him, and know all the 
realities that there are on the other side of the river of 
death. I am fast hastening. I write to you now in bed, 
to which I am confined most of the time, and have no expec- 
tation of recovering my health. I am exceedingly weak, 
and probably this is the last letter I shall ever be able to 
write you. I may drag along some months yet, but I 
should not be surprised, should I drop aw T ay in a week. The 
tide of life has run so low that I am now arranging all my 
affairs to leave without a moment's warning. But glory to 
God, dear brother Jeremiah, I am prepared — and I am 
happy. Jesus Christ has taken away the sting of death, so 
that I rejoice and am exceedingly happy in view of my cer- 
tain dissolution. What supports and comforts me, dear 
brother, is the hope of eternal life — a sure hope like an 
anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast, and entering even 
into heaven. 0, my brother, don't be offended with me, 
when I say, would to God that my brother Jeremiah had 
this hope also — this good hope — this precious hope — 
which extends beyond this life — which will buoy up the 
spirit in the dark valley and shadow of death. that you 



DAVID MARKS. 485 

were a Christian ! a good Christian : a genuine Christian ; 
that you had all the consolations of the blessed, the glorious 
hope of eternal life ! Nothing else can fill and satisfy man's 
capacious soul — his restless nature. brother, you may 
become a Christian ; God is willing ; heaven will forgive ; 
mercy lingers around you, and knocks at your heart for ad- 
mittance. Until you become a Christian, you can never fill 
the design of your being. Religion, genuine religion, is as 
much the natural food of the human soul, as earthly food is 
the natural food for the body. I am glad, my dear brother, 
that you did not go to sea. * * * * May God help 
you to be contented, and give you a good hope of immor- 
tality. Farewell, dear brother. If you can, do write me 
one more letter before I die. 

Your affectionate brother, 

David Marks." 

October 29th or 30th. He rode out and met Professor 
Finney, who said he thought he should leave Oberlin the 
next morning, to spend the winter. Mr. Marks expressed 
his regret, and added that he wished him to preach his 
funeral sermon. President Mahan was already gone. Pro- 
fessor Finney smiled and said, " Brother Marks, you can't 
die now. Are you subject to depression of spirits ? " He 
replied, " No, I was never happier." # 

October 31st, Friday. He said he was only confirmed in 
his views that he had but a few days to stay with me. I 
asked him why he felt so. He then rehearsed the history 
of his sickness from the time of his labors to establish the 
Book Concern, where his toils and exposures subjected him 
to four successive fits of sickness, since which he had never 
seen a well hour. From year to year, he had kept running 
down lower and lower. He had tried to rest, he had tried 
to be quiet, but he had such an insatiable thirst to do some- 
thing for God that he could not. If his body was still, his 
mind was like a steam engine ; his thoughts flew with the 
speed of lightning, and it was a vain attempt to stay them. 
He knew that his constitution could not long endure. God 

* Professor Finney was detained bv sickness in his family. 
11* 



486 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

had trained him for the work of the spirit land. He had 
greater work for him, nobler business in the upper world. 

November 1st. Little Julia and myself rode with him to 
Pittsfield. As we passed the grave-yard, he pointed to it 
and said, " My dear Julia, soon I shall lie there. This is 
the last time you will ever ride with your papa, whom you 
love so much. I am going to live with angels in heaven." 
On our return home, we met Professor Finney, who asked 
him how he did ? With a peculiar emphasis and a heavenly 
smile, he said, 

" There's not a clood that doth arise, 
To hide my Saviour from my eyes." 

November 2d, Sabbath. He rode out on horseback, re- 
turned greatly fatigued, said he thought he should never go 
out of Oberlin — that he should go out of the door but few 
times more — spoke again of writing a farewell address to 
the Free-will Baptist denomination. As he was so feeble, I 
suggested that instead of writing it himself he should employ 
a stenographer. He thanked me for the suggestion. 

November 3d. Professor Finney called to see him. He 
again asked him to preach his funeral sermon. Professor 
Finney, not supposing him so ill, smiled and said : " I will, 
if you will agree to preach mine if I die first/' Soon he 
examined his pulse, appeared astonished and said, " I did 
not think you were so low.' 7 He then prayed with him. 
Mr. Marks told him how much he bad loved to preach — 
said he wished to be carried to the church, and give one 
more testimony for God. Professor Finney replied, " I 
would love to have you, but I fear you are too weak. 
Brother Marks,' 7 he continued, " you have done the work 
of eighty years in forty. I do n 7 t know but it is good econ- 
omy to do our work quick, and save the time for heaven. I 
think it is. Such is the selfishness and stupidity of the 
world, that unless a man makes a tremendous effort, he can 
accomplish but little." 

November 4th. A physician, living several miles from 
Oberlin, who had been sent for, called and stayed the night 
with him. He seemed very confident that he could help 



DAVID MARKS. 487 

him. Mr. Marks told him he would take his medicine, but 
added : " It will do no good." He left his directions, and 
promised to see him again in a week. 

November 6th. He dictated several hours to a steno- 
grapher his dying message to his beloved brethren. He 
seemed much animated and to enjoy it exceedingly. When 
he was through, expecting he would be much exhausted, I 
asked him how he felt. " Oh ! well, very well ; I have had 
a feast of fat things." In the afternoon, Elders S. C. Par- 
ker and A. Curtis, with some others, came to see him, and 
asked him how he was. He replied, " Happy, very happy. 
I have got almost well." The next day, as they were about 
to leave, he said to one of the young brethren with them, 
" Be strong. Let sanctification be your motto. Set God 
before you in all your meat, and drink, and dress, and when 
you enter the dark valley of death, God will send kind 
angels to minister to you. I look back upon my life, and 
have a sweet consciousness that I have not lived to please 
myself, but have, through grace, been able to bear a pointed 
testimony for God ; and that, regardless of the frowns or 
praises even of my friends, I have done what I believed my 
Lord called me to do, and now while I approach the dark 
valley, God sends angels to minister unto me. They hover 
around me, and there is not a cloud between me and my 
Saviour." Taking Elder Parker by the hand, he said, 
" Farewell. We have spent happy hours together ; we part 
now, but shall soon meet again. I am going to my heavenly 
home. When I am gone, remember my poor wife, and the 
poor slave." 

November 10th. Set up three or four hours, begged for 
something to do that would be useful to his family. At his 
request, some pumpkins were carried into his room, and lie 
busied himself, while he sat up, cutting them. Towards night 
Professor Finney called, and said, "Brother Marks, how do 
you do ? " "I am happy, very happy, happy as I can be." 
Prof. Finney said, " You are doing well. I did not expect 
you had made so much progress. You have got on well 
towards heaven." Mr. Marks asked him if he had selected 
a text for his funeral. He answered that he had not. He 



488 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

then said, " A funeral sermon is for the living and not for 
the dead. I have been thinking of several passages, but 
my mind does not settle on any. I have thought of this : 
1 Exercise thyself rather unto godliness.' 0, if I had health, 
how I would delight to run through the churches, and 
again hold up the doctrine of holiness of heart — of entire 
consecration to God." Professor Finney replied, " It is 
well that it is in thine heart to build a house unto the Lord." 
In the evening, as I was going to lie down, he asked me if 
I would give him up. I told him I had not, for I was not 
convinced that it was the will of the Lord to take him yet. 
He said, " You will have to give me up very- soon." At 
one o'clock, I got up. He said, "I am weaker — thank 
God for it. I am happy, very happy ; I am going to my 
Father, to the society of disembodied spirits, to the sweet 
labors of eternity. The tomb is not gloomy. The Saviour 
has passed through it. My bloated limbs look beautiful to 
me, a sign that I am near my home." I asked him if he 
were in haste to leave me. u no," said he, " I have 
never said with Paul, I prefer to depart, could I have health, 
to preach the glorious gospel ; but if unable to labor for God, 
I would prefer to depart. This is a dark, wicked world, 
full of selfishness and unbelief, and there is a great deal to 
be done. I should love to preach and labor here, but my 
Father sees it not best. There is nothing to be accomplished 
by my staying here. I have nothing to do. I am entirely 
reconciled and ready. As I enter the dark valley, the Sav- 
iour is with me — angels minister unto me, and they seem 
to fan me with their wings. You have been a good wife, 
and when you come to die, the same grace will be given 
you. I have been sick a great while, and I rejoice to have 
the question settled. I have been anxious about the result, 
and my friends have been anxious. Either alternative would 
be joyful. I am a happy man ; were I to live, it would be 
for the delightful work of saving souls, but to die would be 
gain." 

November 11th. He wrote and talked all day — ex- 
pressed great anxiety to be carried to the chapel to give one 
more public testimony. I tried to dissuade him, pleading 



DAVID MARKS. 489 

that perhaps he might recover, and that such a step might 
turn the scale. He did not think so, but would submit the 
matter to me. If I were unwilling he would not go. After 
a fit of coughing, he looked at me and said, " how much I 
would prefer to spend my strength in publicly testifying for 
God, than in coughing and struggling for breath. Who 
knows but that God by his Spirit, through something I might 
say, would touch the heart of some one of the students here, 
who would do more for him than I could, should I live to be 
old." I told him I could not bear such responsibility, I 
would oppose his desire no longer — I was willing he should 
go. He laughed and wept for joy, and thanking me, said he 
knew it was affectionate anxiety that had so long withholden 
my consent. He sent for Professors Finney and Dascomb 
to consult them. Prof. Finney said he would love to have 
him go, but he thought he would not live through it. Dr. 
Dascomb thought the same. He thought differently, but he 
said, if he did not, he would as soon die in the chapel as at 
home. It would be a glorious death to die in the field. 
Prof. Finney said, if he desired it, he should be gratified, 
and every arrangement should be made. He requested Dr. 
Dascomb to make a post-mortem examination of his body. 
He said he used to have a dread of death, which he sup- 
posed was constitutional, and that he should never overcome 
it ; and until lately it had always caused a shuddering to 
think of its approach ; but now it seemed a friend, a kind 
angel — its sting was taken away. He continued, " If you 
take a bee and extract its sting, it cannot harm you, even if 
it crawl on your bosom." Seeing us weep around him, he 
would sing with a smile, 

" "Weep not, my friends ; my friends, weep not for me, 
All is well." 

Paid Professor Finney, " How strange it must seem to 
worldlings, to hear a man giving directions with such cheer- 
fulness, about his own post-mortem examination." Miss 
Curtis called. As he looked up and saw the sun setting in 
the west, he said to her, " this beautiful world. It looks 
beautiful, because I see God in it. How beautiful every 



490 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

thing looks about the house. The perfect adaptation of 
every thing in nature to all its parts, reveals God. I could 
sooner believe, that if the letters of a newspaper were cut in 
pieces and scattered to the four winds, they would fall in the 
city of New York and form a perfect volume, than that this 
world came by chance, or that the Bible is not the book of 
God." He spoke of going to his sweet home. She said to 
him, " You love your wife so much, how can you bear to 
leave her ? " He replied, " I know with whom I leave her. 
Our separation will be short : her heavenly Father will not 
suffer her to shed a single tear, or endure a single pang, 
which he will not overrule for her good. Not a hair of her 
head can fall to the ground without his notice." 

November 12th. He wrote : " Being just ready to de- 
part out of this world unto the Father, my dear wife asks me 
to write in her album, and this as one of the last mementoes 
that I can leave her. I comply with the greatest pleasure, 
though probably this is the last writing that I shall ever 
make — my heart being nearly drowned, and the pulsations 
of life so weak as often to stop. I am now waiting hourly, 
in expectation of my change, being fully prepared, and filled 
with indescribable joy at the thought of entering that world 
where I can labor without sleep, and work for ever without 
fatigue. Sixteen years and forty-five days, God has lent us 
to each other in the Lord. Sweet have been these days ; 
and the union, without a bitter pang, has been an apprentice- 
ship to prepare us for the union of spirits in the next world. 
And though we are now called to part, it is but for a few 
days, and then to meet in that land where ' Adieus ' and 
' Farewells' are sounds unknown." 

He selected the hymns to be sung at his funeral, and wrote 
out the first lines, in the following order : 

1st hymn. " I would not live alway, I ask not to stay," 
&c. 

2d hymn. " Ah ! lovely appearance of death," &c. 

3d do. " What is this that steals upon my frame," &c. 

To be sung at my grave. 
4th do. " Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb," &c. 



DAVID MARKS. 491 

He requested, if it should be convenient, that the bearers 
should be ministers. I asked him why he wished this. 
" 0," said he, " because I love them so." After a few 
minutes' silence, he exclaimed, " What a reality the Chris- 
tian's hope is ! Nothing I ever experienced w T as more a 
reality. Jesus said, ' Feel of me : a spirit hath not flesh and 
bones, as ye see me have.' " Mrs. Willard and some other 
friends called : as they entered, he sung with much emotion, 

" There is not a cloud that doth arise 
To hide my Saviour from my eyes ; 
I soon shall mount the upper skies, — 
All is well." 

Mrs. Willard said his countenance seemed radiant with 
glory, and his sick room, which she expected would seem 
sad, was in reality bright and joyful. 

He passed a very sick and distressed night, and it was not 
thought he would survive till morning. He said he had 
hoped to speak for God once more, but did not think he 
should live to see the hour of his appointment. " Father, 
not as I will, but as thou wilt. Thou knowest I have not 
been idle in thy vineyard." During the night, several times 
when he was thought to be dying, he sung, 

" Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, quit, this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying 
the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life." 

His new T physician spent the night with him. When he 
came, he seemed astonished at the change he saw, and wept 
like a child as he told him he must die. Mr. Marks heard 
him with a joyful smile. 

November 13th. He sent for Mr. Kinney to take a mea- 
sure for his coffin, and never was he measured for a suit of 
clothes with more cheerful composure. He told him to 
make it plain, with no unnecessary expense. He wished to 
have his shroud made without delay. After some minutes, 
silence he laughed and wept. I asked, Why these emotions ? 



492 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

He said, " Heaven ! bright visions ! The reality of the 
Christian's hope ! Never was anv thing of my life more 
real." 

He prayed at morning family worship, thus : " holy 
Father, I thank thee that thou didst forgive my sins and 
count me faithful, in putting me into the ministry, that these 
unworthy hands have handled the words of eternal life. I 
thank thee for the mercies of my sickness, that I have suf- 
fered so little pain, that, as I am entering the dark valley, 
thou art with me, that thou hast sent kind angels to minister 
unto me. Jesus, I thank thee for thy presence. What 
should I do, while heart and flesh fail, without thee ! Let 
me see the light of thy blessed countenance to the end. 
Bless my dear wife and sister. I thank thee that thou hast 
prepared them to part with me. And now, Father, if it 
please thee to keep the vital spark burning till the hour of 
my appointment, that I may give one more testimony for 
thee, I would rejoice ; but, Father, thy will be done." 

Having talked incessantly for a time, I tried to persuade 
him to rest. He replied, " Talking excites me and makes 
me easy. My soul is full, like a cart pressed with sheaves, 
and I. must give it vent. 0, if I had a voice that could 
sound around the globe, and make the whole earth hear, 
every king, potentate, philosopher, and sceptic, how I would 
love to preach an hour ! the Christian's hope ! The 
philosopher, after he has fortified his giant intellect all his 
life, the utmost he can do is to die with composure ; while 
the Christian, though weak and ignorant, not only has com- 
posure, but ecstatic joy." 

E. Hawley called, asked him how he was. " 0, happy, 
happy, happy. Home, home, home, sweet home ; there I 
can work without fatigue, and labor without sleep." 

Anna Mahan called ; he said to her, " My bloated limbs, 
distended stomach, suffocation, palpitating heart, are beau- 
tiful passports to my long home, kind angels to release me 
from my clay." A little time after, he said, with great emo- 
tion, " How differently I die from my Saviour ! See him 
on the cross ! Nails through his hands and through his feet ! 
I am surrounded with kind friends, ready to anticipate every 



DAVID MARKS. 493 

want." He gave his cane to Professor Finney, and his 
watch to his sister. 

At three o'clock, to his great joy, he was carried to the 
chapel, reclining on pillows in a large easy chair, and set 
down on the stand. Professor Finney announced to the 
assembly that it was doubtful whether he would survive the 
effort to speak to them — that Dr. Dascomb was unable to 
find any pulse in one wrist, and only a little trembling in 
the other. He hoped, if he should die in the attempt, the 
people would remain in their seats, as his friends near him 
would take care of him. A hymn was sung, he prayed, and 
then addressed the audience about half an hour. After he 
w r as carried home, he continued in great distress till mid- 
night, and was several times thought to be dying. He fre- 
quently sung, " Vital spark," &c. At one time, he said, 
" I think I am going — straighten my limbs — fold my arms 
on my bosom. 0, if this be dying, it is happy dying." 

November 14th. He said he was disappointed that he 
had not got home, but not unhappy, he trusted not unrecon- 
ciled. He said, " I have been very happy, happy, Halle- 
lujah to the Lamb ! how differently I die from those that 
are not Christians. I go to a happy home, where the sun 
will never go down, sorrow and sin will never come ; but 
they to eternal darkness, where their selfishness, in which 
they have trained themselves, will torment them for ever. 0, 
poor sinners ! poor sinners ! " He prayed, " Jesus, when 
wilt thou come ? Give me patience to wait." He said to 
me, with a look of inexpressible tenderness, " If I am per- 
mitted to come on errands to this world, I will visit you fre- 
quently and give you good suggestions." He wished to see 
his class of little children, (who had met him in his sick 
room for several months for prayer and religious instruction, 
some of whom he thought had been converted.) They came 
into his room, two or three at a time. Taking them separ- 
ately by the hand, he would say, " My little dear, I am 
going to heaven, where the Saviour and angels are. Will 
you be a good child, and try to meet me there ? I shall not 
be able to teach you and pray with you any more. Remem- 
ber what I have said to you." Then kissing them, and fre- 

42 



494 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

quently they kissing him, they retired, sohbing as though 
their hearts would break. 

He said, " If the worthless tree or shrub which has been 
cut down, or whose l stock has died in the ground,' will bud 
and grow, shall not man, whose noble powers pant for immor- 
tality, live again ? He will, I know he will. 0, the sweet, 
the glorious doctrine of the resurrection ! It not only dis- 
pels the darkness of the tomb — the gloom of the grave — 
but it even gilds its pathway with a heavenly radiance." 

Mr. Bartlett called at evening, and though in great dis- 
tress, he looked up and smiled. " You are happy," said 
Mr. B. " Why should I not be ? The greatest monarch 
that ever ascended a throne, was never so sure of the reality 
of enjoying wealth, honor, and glory, as I am. God makes 
it a reality to me. It is sure. I know it. " He had a 
sinking turn during the night — watchers thought he was 
going, and called me to see him die. He soon revived and 
said, " Lord Jesus, 0, how long ? When wilt thou let the 
pilgrim go home ? " 

November 15th. He looked bright and happy. Exhib- 
ited the same care and exactness in some little things for 
which he was remarkable when in health. I said to him, he 
appeared so natural, it did not seem possible that he was 
going to die. " Why should I change ? " said he. "I 
expect to die David Marks. I have lived for God and hea- 
ven — for the judgment and eternity. I have lived with 
death in view, and now, why should I change ? " He in- 
quired if his coffin and shroud were done, then sung — 

" Jerusalem, my happy home, 
0, how I long for thee," &c. 

After a little silence, as if in deep meditation, he asked 
me, " What do you think my mother and brother Jeremiah 
will say to me when I meet them in the spirit world ? There 
are many there that will be glad to see me." 

Sunday, November 16th. Very feeble, unable to lie 
down without great distress ; said it was a good symptom, a 
symptom that he could endure but a little while, that he was 



DAVID MARKS. 495 

nearly through. He talked little, was very patient and 
happy, frequently sung, 



Also 



" I am thinking all the while, 
When will my summons come ; " 

" Jerusalem, my happy home, 
0, how I long for'thee," &c. 



He said, " I am not going to die, I am only going to 
sleep. It is not death, but life." Passed a restless night. 

November 17th. He wished he had a stenographer, to 
whom he could dictate a few dying messages to some of his 
friends, especially to some impenitent relatives. I asked 
him to whom he wished to write. He mentioned several, 
saying, " I wish you to say to them individually, from me, 
that it will be a dark and dreadful hour, if they come to the 
valley of death without Christ ; and that I beseech them to 
turn to God, and never rest till they have the evidence that 
their sins are forgiven." To a Christian relative whom he 
named, he wished me to say, " I beseech her always to bear 
the cross, and then I have the fullest confidence, I shall 
meet her in heaven. Tell her to say to her mother, (a lady 
nearly ninety years of age) that I have never, in all my life, 
experienced any reality that w r as more positive and certain 
than the Christian's hope, and I beseech her not to rest until 
she has obtained that hope." 

He had frequently conversed with little Julia about leav- 
ing her, and often prayed with her. At one time, he said 
to her : " I shall soon be gone, and your dear mamma will 
be very lonely and feel very bad, and she will some times 
go with you and visit my grave. I want you to be very good 
and kind to her, and comfort her all you can." He gave 
her a Bible and two hymn books, and wrote in them, after 
her name, " Presented by her dying father." Prof. Finney 
called. He took his hand, and with tears, said, " Brother 
Finney, I am glad that never, for the sake of interest, have 
I avoided preaching the truth, and standing up in defence of 
great principles. What comfort it gives me." He often 
expressed great thankfulness for having been permitted to 



496 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

be carried to the chapel, and the opportunity he there en- 
joyed of speaking for God. 

November 20th. His voice began to fail. He tried to 
sing, but finding he could not, he smiled very sweetly and 
said : " Soon I shall have new lungs. " The day following 
he was worse, suffered much from suffocation, said he should 
soon choke to death, or rather choke into life. Was much 
distressed till midnight. 

November 22d. He was more comfortable. He longed to 
go where he could do something for God. Prof. Finney 
said to him — " Never in your life were you doing more good 
than you now are. You are preaching all the time. The 
people here are running in to hear what you say, others are 
inquiring of them, and you ought not to feel that you are 
doing nothing. Are you not willing to remain where you 
are a hundred years, if it should be the will of God ? " After 
a moment's pause, he said, " I never thought of such a 
thing before, but certainly I would." Afterwards he said, 
" That was a hard question — I answered yes, because for 
many years I have been resolved to have no will but the will 
of God." 

Mr. Belden, from Amherst, called to see him. He wept, 
and as he took him by the hand, said, " 0, how I love you. 
0, that you had this anchor to the soul that I have. You 
have been kind to me. Your house has been a pleasant 
home. I cannot bear the thought that we shall not meet 
again. My coffin and shroud are ready and waiting for me, 
and I am going to my happy home. 0, will you try to 
meet me in heaven?" Mr. B. wept profusely — said he 
would. 

November 23d. He was very weak and hoarse. Taking 
Prof. Finney's hand, he said, " 0, how I love you. How 
happy we shall be when we meet in the spirit-land, where 
the watchmen shall see eye to eye, where there shall be no 
more pain." " And," said Prof. Finney, " where we shall 
run to see each other die no more." " 0," said he, " this 
has been a sweet life to me, I think it will be a sweet death, 
and it will be a sweet heaven." He was anxious for a 
speedy release ; said that never did any one more intensely 



DAVID MARKS. 497 

long to lie down and sleep, than he longed to go to his long, 
sweet home. 

November 24th. Was very languid and greatly ex- 
hausted — prayed that he might depart — said that angels 
were waiting at the portals of heaven to receive his spirit. 
Observing him looking very earnestly round the room, I 
asked him what he was looking at. w ' I was trying to see 
whether I could see angels." Said I, " You have said 
much about angels visiting you. What do you mean by it ? 
Have you actually seen them ? " He replied, " Not with 
my natural eyes, but with an eye of faith. I know they are 
here. They are around my bed and in my room." 

Mr. Willard called. Taking his hand, he said, " I have 
loved you much. Sweet has been our acquaintance. 0, if 
you can see it duty, preach the gospel. Do all the good you 
can. I have been thinking over the toilsome labors which 
have literally worn me out at the age of forty ; and the re- 
membrance of the particular efforts I have made, through 
storms and fatigue, to preach the gospel to poor sinners, 
look to me now as the brightest spots of my life. Often, to 
reach my appointments, I have rode or walked without a 
dry thread about me, and in that state have gone into con- 
gregations and preached." 

He talked some time with me, advising me what to do for 
the future. Among other things, he said, " I charge you, 
do n't let your affection for me keep any of my clothes that 
you can dispose of in any manner to be useful to you, or to 
others. In my view, it would be a species of idolatry." 

After a few moments, seeing me weep, he repeated : " Our 
light afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall work out for 
us a far — more — exceeding — and eternal weight of glory. 
what language ! What a combination of words ! How 
expressive ! What ideas ! far — more — exceeding — and 
eternal — weight — not a quantity, but WEIGHT of glory ! 
No mere rhetorician, no uninspired man, ever wrapped up so 
much meaning in so few words. 0, I would not rob you of 
one star in your crown, by wishing your sufferings less. God 
will sanctify them all, I know lie will." 

Professor Finney called and inquired about his mind. He 

42* 



498 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

said it was hard work for him to think much. Prof. F. re- 
marked, he had been expecting his mind to fail. He replied, 
" I have always felt a great horror of being deranged in my 
last moments, but now I feel perfectly willing ; for," he 
added with great emphasis, " all is safe" Two or three 
hours after this, his mind began to wander, and the use of 
his faculties rapidly failed. Passed a very distressed night. 
November 25th. Weaker than ever ; was greatly dis- 
tressed ; thanked God for it ; said, " Home ! home ! home ! 
Hallelujah ! " — sung, 

" Cease, fond nature." 

He smiled continually, and bore his sufferings with a meek- 
ness and patience that seemed almost sublime. 

He dictated the following letters. The first was addressed 
to a minister. 

" Dear brother : — I expect some to get home to-day — 
to my sweet, long home. I hope you will yet meet me there, 
but .as I had not strength to converse with you as I wished 
when you called, I want to dictate to my wife a dying mes- 
sage for you. I have, for the twenty-five years of my min- 
istry, borne a pointed rebuke against sin, even the sins of my 
dearest friends, perfectly regardless of personal interest, for 
I have feared God ! I knew I was going to the judgment. 
This has caused me enemies and opposition, but now, in my 
dying moments, the joy it gives me is inexpressible. I have 
often been personal, and said, ' Thou art the man ; ' and 0, 
the peace, the peace, it gives. My garments are clear from 
the blood of souls. I want to say to you in the utmost love : 
Stand up in defence of great principles. 
Do right, and the God of peace will be with you. May God 
make you a holy and efficient minister, that shall have many 
souls in your crown. Farewell, till we meet above. 

David Marks." . 

November 26th. He appeared to have his senses, but 
his mind was extremely weak, so that it was difficult for him 
to remember what he wished to say, after he commenced a 



DAVID MARKS. 499 

sentence. Still he was inexpressibly happy. He said to 
Elder Knight, " 0, brother Knight, preach, preach a Holy 
Ghost religion." 

Seeing me weeping, said he, " My dear Marilla, I shall 
love you as well, yes, better, when I am gone, than I ever 
have on earth, and I have no doubt but that my spirit will 
often visit you and minister to you, perhaps be your guar- 
dian angel." A little after noon, Prof. Finney called. I told 
him my husband's unsuccessful attempt, the day previous, 
to write his name. He smiled and said, " I think I can 
write it to-day." A pencil and paper were handed him. 
He wrote very awkwardly, " David." On being told of it, 
he clapped his hands, and with tears of joy, shouted as loud 
as his hoarse voice would permit, " Bless the Lord, bless the 
Lord, Hallelujah. Am I so near my home ? Can't write 
my name. 0, bless the Lord." Seizing Prof. Finney's 
hand, he continued, " 0, bless the Lord, that I am so near 
home, home, sweet home." He then threw his arms around 
my neck — " 0, my dear wife, you have been a faithful, 
good wife ; we shall soon meet. You have been a faithful 
Christian — a great help to me in my ministry. You never 
held me back, never placed the least hindrance in my way. 
God will bless you." Said Prof. Finney to the by-standers, 
" Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end 
of that man is peace." 

He seemed remarkably affectionate and childlike. A 
barber shaved him. (A colored man.) He kissed him 
very affectionately, and looking up, said, " 0, how I love 
you; God bless you." Several friends called. It seemed 
as if his heart burned with affection. He would kiss them, 
and as they were going out, would say, " I hate to have you 
go." He expressed much concern about my health, re- 
quested some friends to watch over me, and frequently said, 
" Poor child ! Poor child ! " 

November 27th. Seemed very easy, but extremely weak. 
Spoke in a whisper. Said little. Mrs. Professor Allen 
called, and asked for my signature to a petition, remonstra- 
ting against the annexation of Texas. Mr. Marks eagerly 
inquired, " May my name go on ? " He was told that this 



500 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

petition was exclusively for ladies, but that there was a sim- 
ilar one circulating in the village for gentlemen, and if he 
wished, his name should go on that. He said, u I do wish 
it." One of his attendants promised him that it should be 
done. At every arrival of his anti-slavery papers, he would 
ask me to see if there was any good news for God's afflicted, 
oppressed poor. The last that it is recollected that he read, 
was in an anti-slavery paper a day or two previous to this 
date. 

Professors Finney and Morgan called. Throwing his arms 
around Professor Morgan's neck, he said, " I have wanted 
to see you very much." Professor Morgan spoke of a cer- 
tain Christian, who said he would rather die and have his 
body laid in the grave, than be translated as Enoch was, 
because his Saviour died and was buried. I asked him if 
he felt so. He said, " yes, if it be the Lord's will." 
The two following days he said little, slept most of the time. 

November 30th. Failed very fast. At night had no 
pulse. Slept most of the night. 

December 1st. Slept very sweetly, reclining on pillows 
in his easy chair. About eight o'clock, A. M. Professor 
Finney called. I aroused him, but as he took no notice of 
him, I inquired, " Do you know who that is ? " He smiled 
and said, " Yes, I do ; it is my brother Finney," and imme- 
diately fell asleep. As Professor Finney was about to leave, 
I tried to arouse him again ; and as he saw him going out, 
he whispered, " Farewell," which was about the last word 
he was heard to say. When spoken to afterwards, some- 
times he would answer, " Yes," or " No," at other times 
would only smile. A little before noon, he made a signal to 
be laid on his couch. His attendants attempted to remove 
him, but it distressed him so much, that he desired to be set 
back in his chair, when, with a sweet smile, he fell asleep 
almost instantly. He continued to sleep as quietly as an 
infant till about half-past four o'clock, P. M., when he made 
another signal to be removed to his couch. As he was set 
down on the bed, a change was perceived. I took his head 
on a pillow, he placed one hand under his head,. while little 
Julia, weeping and sobbing, took the other. His eyes rolled 



RICHARD LANGHORNE. 501 

back in his head, he breathed hard four or five times, and 
then, without a struggle or a groan, or even one gasp, all 
was still. He was gone ! His spirit had soared on angel 



RICHARD LANGHORNE. 

Richard Langhorne, a lawyer, was unjustly condemned 
and put to death as a traitor, in the reign of Charles II. 
Just before his execution, he wrote the following unique and 
most exquisite poem. In the language of the Quarterly 
Revieiv, " A poem it must be called, though it is not verse. 
Perhaps there is not in this or any other language, a poem 
which appears to have flowed so entirely from the heart. " 

It is told me I must die. 

happy news ! 
Be glad, my soul, 
And rejoice in Jesus, thy Saviour. 
If He intended thy perdition, 
Would He have laid down his life for thee ? 
Would He have called thee with so much love, 
And illuminated thee with the light of his Spirit ? 

Would He have given thee his cross, 
And given thee shoulders to bear it with patience ? 

It is told me I must die. 

happy news ! 
Come on, my dearest soul, 
Behold thy Jesus calls thee ! 
He prayed for thee upon his cross; 
There He extended his arms to receive thee ; 
There He bowed down his head to kiss thee ; 
There He opened his heart to give thee entrance ; 
There He gave up his life to purchase life for thee. 



502 THE EMINENT DEAD. 

It is told me I must die. 
what happiness ! 
I am going 
To the place of my rest : 
To the land of the living ; 
To the haven of security ; 
To the kingdom of peace ; 
To the palace of my God ; 
To the nuptials of the Lamb ; 
To sit at the table of my King ; 
To feed on the bread of angels ; 
To see what no eye hath seen ; 
To hear what no ear hath heard ; 
To enjoy what the heart of man cannot comprehend. 

my Father ! 
thou best of all fathers, 
Have pity on the most wretched of all thy children ' 

I was lost, but by thy mercy found ; 
I was dead, but by thy grace am now raised again ; 
I was gone astray after vanity, 
But am now ready to appear before thee. 

my Father, 
Come now in mercy and receive thy child ! 
Give him thy kiss of peace ; 
Remit unto him all his sins ; 
Clothe him with thy nuptial robe ; 
Permit him to have a place at thy feast ; 
And forgive all those who are guilty of his death 



Ftb 28 1912 



